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MAY -PERCY 
•ANNO 


•ATATI5-SVA-17 
DNI 


MAY    PERCY 


THE  CASTLE  COMEDY 

BY    THOMPSON     BUCHANAN 


ILLUSTRATED 
BY  ELIZABETH 


AND  DECORATED 
SHIPPEN  GREEN 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS 
PUBLISHERS  «  MCMIV 


UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELES 


Copyright,  1904,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  September,  1904. 


KI  IBM 


m-m 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.  A  WAYSIDE  SURPRISE  ....  i 

II.  DANCING   AND   DIPLOMACY     .     .  15 

III.  MARRIAGE  VERSUS  POETRY     .     .  30 

IV.  THE  NOBLEST  DAME  OF  ALL     .  47 

V.  HER    DANCING-MASTER'S   TOAST  68 

VI.  THE  ST.  CROIX  SIGNET      ...  91 

VII.  SUPPOSE 107 

VIII.  WIT  AGAINST  RAPIER,  WITH  THB 

CLOCK  FOR  JUDGE       .     .     .  118 

IX.  A  WAR-OFFICE  SPECIAL    .     .     .  137 

X.  FOR  MY  LADY'S  HONOR    .     .     .  149" 

XI.  MINE  IMAGINATIVE  HOST  ...  172 

XII.  THE    PERCY    WAITING-CHAMBER  180 

XIII.  THE  PRICE  OF  A  MAN  ....  190 

XIV.  A  WIDE-AWAKE  GOVERNMENT  .  202 

XV.  JACK  PERCY'S  GRANDSON  .    .     .  226 


2125823 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


MAY   PERCY FroKtisptect 

"  'OH,  I'M  NOT  AFRAID  YOU'LL  CATCH 

ME,'  SHE   LAUGHED  "  .       .       .       .  Facing  p.   56 
"  '  HAVE  YOU  TAUGHT  MANY  LADIES 
OF  FRANCE  THE  MINUET,  MON- 
SIEUR?'"        " 

"  IT  WAS  THE  SWORD  SALUTE  OF  A 

FRENCH  OFFICER"   ....       "      164 


THE    CASTLE   COMEDY 


A    WAYSIDE    SURPRISE 

"As  the  sands  of  the  sea,  beyond  counting, 

Deep  as  the  ocean  cave, 
High  as  the  stars  above  us, 

Pure  as  moonlight  on  wave, 
Strong  as  yon  cliff  beside  us, 

Broad  as  orbit  of  earth, 
Hot  as  sun's  rays  at  mid-day, 

This   love,  sweetheart — yours   from   my 
birth." 

/"CASUALLY  the  young  man  raised 
\^4  his  eyes  from  his  harp  to  find  that  he 
had  an  audience.  He  sprang  to  his  feet, 
looking  all  embarrassment  at  the  two 
girls  standing  so  suddenly  close  at  hand. 
Pictures  of  twin  beauty,  contrasts, 


THE    CASTLE    COMEDY 


they  were,  framed  in  the  door-free  stone 
archway  of  the  half-ruined  hut.  And 
to  him,  looking  outward,  it  seemed  the 
cloudless  sky  above,  the  rolling  park- 
land that  stretched  away,  the  nodding 
elms,  the  noisy  brook  quarrelling  before 
the  hut,  and  even  the  lazy  road  that 
wandered  aimlessly  across  the  view  were 
all  there  and  in  place,  but  as  a  fitting 
background  for  that  arch-framed  love- 
liness in  front. 

And  all  this  while  the  girls  were 
laughing  at  him. 

One  was  tall,  perhaps,  and  slender, 
perhaps,  with  the  hair  of  the  Italian 
master — the  hair  that  the  red  sun  kisses, 
and  then,  unable  to  leave  for  the  glory 
his  kiss  has  awakened,  hides  in.  Her 
mouth  was  made  for  kissing,  for  smiling, 
or  for  the  sly  saying  of  things  that  cut. 
And  her  hazel  eyes  would  smile  always 
unless  a  sad  tale  dewed  them. 

But  the  other  —  there  could  be  no 


A     WAYSIDE    SURPRISE 


"perhaps"  here:  he  looked  and  gasped, 
for  in  those  deep  eyes  he  seemed  to 
find,  all  intermingled,  the  witchery,  the 
appeal,  and  the  compelling  power  of  mid- 
night. Here  was  one  who  could  jump 
the  octave  of  emotions  from  laughter 
to  rage,  and  strike  not  a  mood  between. 
Her  hair  was  black,  and,  dimly,  he  was 
aware  of  her  nose  tilting  daintily  up- 
ward, a  bit  supercilious  above  the  lips 
that  met  so  straight  and  yet  so  tender, 
while  under  the  white  skin  he  could 
see  the  blood  ran  quick  this  way  and 
that  at  the  dominating  black  eyes' 
command.  And  they  answered  every 
thought. 

Thus  she  stood,  an  imperious  little 
Empress  of  Hearts,  who  needed  no  herald 
to  announce  her  rank;  for  a  new  subject 
bowed  down  before  her. 

"  Come,  come,  Sir  Poet.    There  are  two 
of  us;  which  were  you  honoring?"    She 
of  the  red-gold  hair  it  was  mocked  him. 
3 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


He  bowed  and  answered  her  gayly, 
but  his  looks  sought  the  other,  the 
smaller  girl,  who  held  him. 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,  a  poor  dancing- 
master  can  serve  but  the  most  beauti- 
ful." 

"A  dancing-master!"  Her  tone  was 
different  now.  "Why,  we  thought  to 
have  found  a  love-sick  poet  swain  when 
we  heard  you  playing  in  our  pet  hut. 
Didn't  we,  May?" 

"Why,  Eff,  a  dancing-master  will  be 
of  far  more  use  to  us,  awkward  country 
maids.  We'll  learn  to  courtesy  right, 
and,  perhaps,  the  minuet  if — ' '  Her  black 
eyes  took  him  in  with  one  swift  glance. 

"Master  Dubarre,"  he  stammered. 

"Master  Dubarre  will  teach  us,"  she 
ended. 

"The  honor  would  overwhelm  a  poor 
Frenchman,"  This  with  another  and  a 
deeper  bow. 

"French?"  cried  the  poet -seeker. 
4 


A    WAYSIDE     SURPRISE 

"Why,  you  speak  English  like  an  Eng- 
lishman!" 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,  I  was  reared  in 
England,  but  " — the  French  shrug  spoke 
volumes — "who  would  employ  an  Eng- 
lish dancing-master?" 

The  laughter  of  the  three,  inter- 
mingled, swept  away  all  stiffness. 

"Come,  May,"  laughed  the  Titian- 
haired  one,  "have  you  not  a  French 
cousin?" 

"And  by  that  token  should  be  almost 
as  good  a  frog-eater  as  this  man,  I  sup- 
pose," cried  May.  "  But  you  must  not 
speak  of  him." 

"Think,  Eff,  he  is  righting  English- 
men, when  he  is  half  English  himself. 
His  mother  was  my  cousin  Sarah, 
daughter  of  Cousin  John  Percy.  It  was 
by  her  running  away  with  the  young 
Vicomte  de  St.  Croix,  when  he  was 
secretary  of  the  French  legation,  that 
the  castle  came  to  our,  the  younger, 

5' 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

branch  of  the  family.     It  killed  Cousin 
John." 

"I  sought  the  castle,"  interrupted 
Dubarre.  "At  the  inn  they  told  me 
one  Sir  Henry  Percy  had  a  most  beauti- 
ful daughter,  and  she  a  friend  who  might 
show  me  how  English  girls  can  dance." 

"I  am  Mistress  May  Percy,  and  this 
my  friend,  Mistress  Ethel  Courtleigh," 
spoke  she  of  the  black  eyes,  drawing  up 
her  figure  in  slender  queenliness  to  its 
full  sixty  inches. 

The  Frenchman's  third  bow  since  his 
first  surprise  was  the  deepest  of  all. 
"That  was  a  most  unusual  innkeeper, 
mademoiselle.  He  did  not  lie." 

The  girl  flushed  angry  at  the  broad 
compliment. 

"When  can  you  begin  your  duties, 
Master  Dubarre?"  she  said,  stiffly. 

"At  once,  if  only  I  could  move  my 
comrade  to  the  castle." 

"Comrade?" 

6 


A     WAYSIDE     SURPRISE 

"Yes,  mademoiselle."  He  turned, 
pointing  over  to  one  corner,  and  for  the 
first  time  the  girls  saw  another  man,  a 
big  fellow,  lying  on  a  bed  of  moss, 
apparently  asleep.  "Poor  Pierre!  he 
play  the  harp  for  me  while  I  teach  the 
steps.  This  morning,  coming  down  to 
a  little  ford,  he  stumbled.  The  heavy 
harp  on  his  back  hurled  him  down  so 
much  the  harder.  His  head  struck  a 
stone.  See!" 

The  dancing-master  stepped  across  to 
the  moss-bed,  and  Mistress  Percy  follow- 
ed him. 

"Oh,  it  is  horrible!  Will  he  live?" 
the  girl  exclaimed,  when  she  saw  the 
long  gash  running  across  the  man's  fore- 
head at  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

Dubarre  shrugged  his  shoulders  again. 
"  It  is  nothing.  We  French  know  much. 
I  bound  up  the  wound.  Then  we  came 
on  to  this  hut.  Pierre  was  tired  from 
the  blood-letting,  I  from  carrying  the 
7 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

harp.  We  stopped,  and  I  sung  him  to 
sleep." 

"  But  he  must  be  carried  to  the  house. 
He'll  be  too  weak  to  walk.  Here,  Eff" — 
Mistress  Percy  turned  impulsively  to  her 
friend  —  "ride  you  to  the  castle.  Sir 
John  Wilmerding  and  Captain  Thorn- 
cliffe  will  be  there  awaiting  us.  Tell  Sir 
John  I  say  to  bring  a  litter  for  this 
wounded  man.  I  will  wait  here  and 
tend  him  if  he  wakes.  Men  know  noth- 
ing about  such  things." 

The  Frenchman  regarded  her  for  a  few 
moments  in  silence.  "You  are  very 
good,  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  at  last. 

Ethel  Courtleigh  was  on  her  horse 
riding  along  the  road  across  the  view  to 
her  destination  a  mile  away.  And  as 
she  rode  she  smiled  to  herself  to  think 
how  Sir  John  Wilmerding,  the  hand- 
somest, the  proudest  man  in  the  county, 
would  receive  that  command  to  bring 
out  a  litter  and  help  carry  in  an  un- 
8 


WAYSIDE     SURPRISE 

named,  unknown,  low  -  born  assistant 
to  a  wandering,  renegade  French  danc- 
ing-master. But  Sir  John  Wilmerding 
would  obey.  Mistress  Courtleigh  knew 
that,  for  it  was  not  recorded  when  any 
one  —  and  Sir  John  last  of  all  —  had  ever 
thought  of  disobeying  the  imperious  little 
toast  of  the  county. 

None  in  that  part  of  England  was 
more  powerful  than  the  Percys.  Sir 
Henry  of  "the  castle"  was  the  family 
head,  and  his  daughter,  Mistress  May, 
had  ruled  too  long  a  queen  not  to  com- 
mand absolute  obedience.  And  so  the 
smiling  messenger  delivered  her  com- 
mand, and  two  men,  inwardly  cursing, 
hurried  about  to  obey  the  latest  whim- 
sical wish  of  their  sovereign. 

Out  in  the  hut  Pierre  was  slowly 
reviving.  The  girl  had  Dubarre  bring 
her  water  in  his  hat  from  the  brook 
that  rushed  noisily  before  the  door,  and, 
using  her  own  handkerchief,  she  washed 
9 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


daintily  and  bound  up  the  ugly  wound 
with  tender  care.  The  big  Frenchman 
lying  there  watched  her  face  throughout 
with  mute,  dog-eyed  affection. 

"  Does  it  hurt  very  much?"  she  asked, 
as  he  winced  involuntarily. 

"  Non,  non,  mademoiselle.  Mon  Dieu! 
It  is  heaven!"  he  cried,  while  Dubarre, 
standing  awkwardly  with  the  wet  hat 
in  his  hands,  exclaimed:  "Ma  foi, 
mademoiselle!  be  careful,  or  Pierre  will 
be  falling  down  every  day." 

Then  she  ordered  the  wounded  man  to 
lie  still,  and  made  him  close  his  eyes 
that  she  might  get  away  from  the  silent, 
saint-hungry  adoration  in  them.  At 
her  wish  Dubarre  seated  himself  at  the 
harp  to  sing  again  the  song  the  girls 
had  interrupted.  He  sang  this  time, 
it  seemed  to  May  Percy,  with  more 
power,  color,  warmth,  and  fervor  than 
before. 

It  was  a  very  pretty  song. 
10 


A     WAYSIDE     SURPRISE 

And  the  girl  who  had  been  busy  all 
the  seventeen  years  of  her  life  making 
others  obey  her  slightest  whims  was 
now  very  happy  with  the  first  taste  of 
doing  something  she  thought  useful  for 
somebody. 

When  Dubarre  had  finished  singing 
he  had  to  answer  questions  about  him- 
self and  Pierre. 

Then,  as  she  sat  on  the  only  bench 
the  leaf -strewn  hut  afforded,  watching 
the  keen,  strong-featured,  alert  face,  the 
nervous,  trained  figure  of  the  story- 
teller, his  questioner  learned  how  old 
Armand  Dubarre,  in  the  generation 
before,  had  taught  the  ladies  of  France 
to  dance.  How  he  had  been  indiscreet 
in  carrying  letters  for  a  certain  noble 
marquis.  Dubarre  shook  his  head  when 
he  spoke  of  this.  "The  elopement 
failed.  The  marquis  was  killed.  The 
lady's  family  was  very  powerful,  and 
my  father  fled  to  England."  He  went 
ii 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

on  to  tell  how  the  outlawed  Frenchman 
had  started  a  dancing  class.  He  taught 
the  young  ladies  in  noble  English  fam- 
ilies, and  so  had  married  an  English 
waiting  -  maid.  Gaston  Dubarre  was 
their  son. 

The  girl  seemed  to  lose  interest  after 
she  had  found  all  this.  She  listened, 
though,  when  the  Frenchman  went  on 
volubly  to  explain  that  he  had  followed 
his  father's  trade,  and  had  taken  up 
where  the  elder  Dubarre  left  off. 

"I  used  to  play  the  harp,"  the  son 
said,  "and  he  taught.  When  he  died,  I 
went  to  France  and  stayed  two  years  to 
learn  the  latest  dances.  Then  I  brought 
my  cousin  Pierre  back  with  me.  Now 
we  are  going  to  teach  the  English  ladies 
how  to  dance.  We  hear  of  Mademoiselle 
Percy  and  Mistress  Courtleigh.  We 
hunt  out  your  castle,  and  —  ma  foi! — 
we  are  here."  He  ended  it  with  a 
French  shrug. 

12 


A     WAYSIDE     SURPRISE 


Mistress  Percy  yawned  and  went  to 
the  doorway  of  the  hut.  It  was,  after 
all,  so  extremely  prosaic,  so  utterly  un- 
romantic.  The  man  found  singing  love 
songs  in  the  rustic  wayside  hut  that  she 
and  Ethel  Courtleigh  had  long  used  as 
their  pet  rendezvous  was,  after  all, 
nothing  but  a  mere  servant,  a  hireling, 
with  educated  feet.  And,  acting  on  an 
impulse,  she  had  dressed  the  wound 
of  this  low  fellow's  lower  servant  and 
had  sent  for  a  proud  English  gentleman 
to  bring  a  litter  to  carry  him.  As  she 
looked  through  the  door  she  could  see  a 
coach  approaching  by  the  wandering 
road,  with  two  gentlemen  and  a  girl  as 
outriders.  Sir  John  had  obeyed  her 
command.  The  thought  did  not  give 
her  pleasure,  though,  for  she  was  too 
used  to  having  her  commands  obeyed. 

Thoroughly  disgusted  now,  Mistress 
Percy  turned  back  into  the  hut.  She 
turned  just  in  time  to  intercept  a  look 
13 


THE      CASTLE     COMEDY 


that  flashed  from  Dubarre  to  Pierre 
and  back  again.  The  girl  caught  her 
breath  and  walked  straight  up  to  the 
man  standing  beside  the  harp. 

"Monsieur  Dubarre,  was  that  long- 
winded  tale  the  truth?" 

He  faced  her,  laughing  easily,  and 
with  the  inevitable  shrug. 

"Mistress  Percy  can  believe  all  or 
none,  just  as  she  pleases,"  he  said. 

Then  the  girl  looked  at  Pierre. 

The  wounded  man  lay  still,  with  eyes 
closed,  face  stern,  and  set  lips  that  made 
no  sign. 

That  evening  Mistress  Percy  told  Sir 
Henry,  her  father,  Sir  John  "Wilmerding, 
Captain  Thorncliffe,  and  the  rest  of  the 
company  the  story  she  had  heard  from 
Master  Dubarre.  And  the  next  morning 
the  dancing-master  gave  his  first  lesson. 


c 


II 


DANCING    AND    DIPLOMACY 

'OME,  come,  mademoiselle,  that  is 
all  wrong." 

The  dancing  -  master  spoke  sharply, 
as  one  would  to  an  unruly  child,  for 
Mistress  Percy  was  in  one  of  her  ob- 
stinate moods,  and  the  lesson  had  gone 
awry  from  the  beginning.  They  were 
at  one  end  of  the  long,  narrow,  bare 
fencing  -  hall,  which  since  the  arrival 
of  Dubarre  had  become,  too,  a  dancing- 
room. 

Now  the  girl  drew  herself  up  to  make 
the  most  of  her  inches. 

"Monsieur  Dubarre,  I  am  not  ac- 
customed— "  she  began. 

"To  hear  the  truth,"  he  ended  for  her, 
15 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

smiling  lightly.  Then  with  grave  polite- 
ness, "Certainly:  if  mademoiselle  wishes 
to  achieve  awkwardness,  I  will  say  al- 
ready she  is  far  on  the  road  to  perfection. 
Pardon  me  for  hitherto  mistaking  the 
aim  of  mademoiselle. ' '  His  face  showed 
deep  concern  at  his  mistake.  Only  about 
the  eyes  was  the  quizzical  humor  of  a 
man  amusing  himself  at  the  expense  of 
a  spoiled  child. 

Her  eyes  flashed  danger  signals,  but, 
altogether  unmindful,  he  turned  to  his 
assistant : 

"Pierre,  put  your  fingers  out  of  tune, 
that  the  music  may  keep  step  with 
mademoiselle." 

At  the  command,  as  an  automaton 
might,  Pierre,  seated  before  his  big  harp 
at  the  other  end  of  the  hall,  juggled  the 
strings  out  of  all  time  or  tune. 

"Do  you  not  like  it?"  Dubarre  asked, 
when  the  girl  involuntarily  put  her 
hands  to  her  ears.  "If  after  three 
16 


DANCING     AND     DIPLOMACY 


months  you  will  not  keep  time  with  the 
music,  then  the  music  must  keep  time 
with  you.  My  reputation  as  a  dancing- 
master  demands  that  you  keep  together. ' ' 

There  was  joy  now  in  his  tone  as  at 
the  solution  of  a  great  difficulty. 

"Possibly  were  the  teacher  better, 
progress  had  not  been  so  slow,"  Mistress 
Percy  blurted,  angrily. 

The  Frenchman  bowed  profound  ac- 
quiescence. "Mademoiselle  is  right," 
he  said,  now  sadly.  "I  should  never 
have  attempted  the  task.  My  father,  a 
famous  dancer,  often  told  me  that  only 
an  old  man  could  muster  patience  to 
teach  the  very  young,  who  have  no  idea 
how  to  learn." 

The  girl  whirled  on  him,  splendidly 
angry. 

"Am  I  to  be  insulted  by  my  dancing- 
teacher?  Monsieur,  I  would  have  you 
know  this  shall  be  the  last  lesson." 

"Then  it  were  wise  to  make  the  most 
•  17 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


of  it,"  he  answered,  coolly,  and  took 
her  hand.  "Pierre,  play  slowly.  We 
will  dance  the  minuet." 

From  pure  wonder  at  his  presump- 
tion, she  yielded.  For  a  time,  back  and 
forward,  in  graceful  measure,  they  trod 
through  the  stately  dance.  Ethel 
Courtleigh,  awaiting  her  turn,  thought 
she  had  never  seen  so  well-matched  a 
couple.  His  figure,  not  tall  nor  broad, 
but  well-knit  and  graceful,  gave  the 
impression  of  splendid  strength.  His 
face  confirmed  it.  A  disinterested 
spectator  could  not  have  seemed  cooler 
or  more  unconcerned.  Opposite,  the 
slender  form  of  the  girl  fairly  vibrated 
with  scarce  -  suppressed  anger.  Her 
cheeks  glowed  from  its  heat,  while  the 
big  black  eyes  above  were  blazing. 

The  dancing-master  stopped  short  and 
shrugged     his     shoulders     impatiently. 
"One,  two,  three,  four.     Can  you  not 
possibly  keep  time?"  he  asked. 
18 


DANCING     AND     DIPLOMACY 

The  watcher  held  her  breath  for  the 
explosion  she  felt  sure  must  follow,  for 
no  man  had  ever  spoken  to  May  Percy 
that  way  before.  But  the  explosion 
came  not.  Instead  Mistress  Percy  seem- 
ed stunned.  The  dancing-master  turn- 
ed somewhat  impatiently  to  his  assistant, 
"Now,  Pierre,  again." 

Once  more  they  trod  the  measure. 
A  second  time  Dubarre  stopped  short. 

"Is  mademoiselle  a  clumsy  milk-maid 
dodging  cows'  tails?  Have  you  no 
knees?"  he  asked,  with  exaggerated 
politeness,  then  added,  mournfully,  "  Oh, 
that  courtesy!" 

And  then  the  storm  broke  forth  in 
earnest .  Mistress  Percy  j  erked  her  hand 
from  his. 

"When  came  it,"  she  cried,  "that 
a  paid  teacher  so  addressed  his  pupil, 
and  that  pupil  a  lady  ?  Am  I  a  child  to 
be  ordered  about  by  a  runaway  French- 
man, a  trickster  with  his  feet?  No,  I 
19 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


will  not  dance.  I  am  utterly  weary  of 
it,  and  I  will  never,  never  dance  again." 
And  with  her  head  very  high,  and  her 
body  held  very  stiffly  erect,  the  girl 
turned  her  back  on  him  and  walked 
proudly  to  the  side  window  to  see  how 
utterly  miserable  everything  looked 
without. 

The  man  merely  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders and  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"Certainly  mademoiselle  has  taken 
more  than  her  fair  share  of  the  time, 
but,  then,  Mistress  Courtleigh  learns  so 
quickly  that  it  will  make  little  dif- 
ference." 

His  tone  was  easy  and  absolutely  cool. 
With  a  sigh  as  though  to  himself,  he 
added,  "Mon  Dieu!  It  is  exhausting  to 
teach  a  young  lady  with  a  quick  temper, 
who  will  not  try  to  learn." 

Mistress  Percy  whirled  about  to  speak, 
then  as  quickly  turned  back  to  the 
window.  Looking  closely  at  Dubarre, 
20 


DANCING     AND     DIPLOMACY 


Ethel  Courtleigh  thought  she  saw  about 
his  mouth  the  faint  shadow  of  a  smile 
that  was  quickly  pressed  away.  Then 
he  came  over  to  her. 

"Will  Mistress  Courtleigh  so  honor  a 
poor  dancing-master  by  affording  him  a 
little  real  pleasure?" 

The  tone  was  supplication;  the  bow, 
a  courtier's.  Ethel  Courtleigh  arose 
promptly. 

"Pierre,  we  will  dance  that  minuet." 

Again  the  girl  at  the  window  started. 
She  would  not  look,  but  she  could  hear 
everything.  Now  Dubarre  was  speak- 
ing. Above  the  music  of  the  harp  the 
words  came  to  her. 

"One,  two,  three,  four — a  gracious 
courtesy!  A  little  more  now.  That  is 
it.  Ah,  Mistress  Courtleigh,  it  is,  indeed, 
a  pleasure  to  dance  with  one  so  graceful, 
so  eager  to  dance  well.  Play  that  again, 
Pierre,  I  would  see  if  Mistress  Courtleigh 
can  reach  perfection  twice."  A  pause 

21 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


of  a  few  moments,  and  he  cried,  with 
enthusiasm,  "Indeed,  indeed,  you  could 
not,  for  the  last  was  e'en  better  than  the 
first." 

"With  such  a  teacher,  Monsieur 
Dubarre,  it  were,  indeed,  hard  not  to 
dance  well."  And  Ethel  Courtleigh 
smiled  her  gratification,  while  May 
Percy  drummed  violently  on  the  win- 
dow-pane. 

Once  more  the  music  started  and 
again,  after  some  time,  Dubarre  began 
to  speak. 

"You  know,  Mistress  Ethel,  the  spirit 
has  so  much  to  do  with  dancing.  Pride 
and  self  -  opinion  are  fatal  bars.  A 
gracious  mind,  a  kindly  spirit,  a  good 
temper  joined  with  much  determination 
— a  lady  so  endowed  must  of  necessity 
dance  well,  if  she  be  not  hopelessly 
awkward.  Shall  I  teach  you  the  French 
courtesy?  Watch — this  is  it." 

For  quite  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the 

22 


DANCING     AND     DIPLOMACY 

tapping  of  the  "high-heeled  slippers  and 
the  soft  glide  of  dancing  -  pumps  alone 
punctuated  the  silence.  At  the  window, 
Mistress  Percy  had  counted  every  limb 
on  the  trees  within  vision.  Then  Du- 
barre's  enthusiasm  broke  out. 

"Bravo!  Bravo!"  he  cried.  "Ma  foi, 
I  would  not  have  believed  it.  I've  seen 
ladies  of  the  French  court  practise  for 
weeks,  while  you  have,  as  it  were,  caught 
the  whole  idea  in  a  moment.  Within  a 
week,  the  most  graceful  woman  at  court 
could  not  surpass  you." 

The  girl  at  the  window  at  last  turned 
to  see  Monsieur  Dubarre  leading  his 
pleased  pupil  to  her  seat.  He  bent  low 
over  the  little  hand. 

"May  I  thank  you  for  a  very  great 
pleasure?"  he  said,  earnestly.  "It  was 
worth  the  trip  from  France." 

And  Mistress  Percy  turned  back  to 
the  dismal  counting  of  the  trees.  Pierre 
stopped  playing  and  began  to  put  the 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

cover  on  his  harp.  Gaston  Dubarre 
was  preparing  to  go.  Suddenly  the  girl 
at  the  window  moved  away  from  it. 
She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  with 
her  old  -  time  impulsiveness  walked 
straight  down  the  room  to  where  the 
man  who  had  chided  and  laughed  at  her 
stood. 

"Monsieur" — she  stopped,  strangely 
embarrassed  — ' '  if — if  —  you  please ,  I 
will  dance  that  minuet." 

She  stood  before  him,  her  cheeks  pink, 
her  eyes  wonderfully  soft  and  moist, 
with  the  sweet  humiliation  of  her  first 
defeat.  Not  even  his  eyelashes  flick- 
ered, but  the  man  bowed  very  low. 

"Her  dancing-master  is  always  at 
mademoiselle's  service,"  he  said. 
"Pierre,  the  minuet." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  Captain  Thorn- 
cliffe  and  Sir  John  Wilmerding  came  in 
for  their  daily  bout  with  the  foils,  just 
in  time  to  hear  Mistress  Percy  ask : 
24 


DANCING     AND     DIPLOMACY 


"And  you  do  think  I  will  improve?" 

Dubarre  smiled.  "Already  mademoi- 
selle shows  marked  improvement,"  he 
answered. 

"Thank  you,  monsieur,"  and  the  new- 
comers wondered  at  her  tone. 

Pierre  put  the  cover  on  his  harp  and 
went  away,  the  girls  left,  and  Sir  John, 
big,  strong,  and  hot-headed,  assumed  his 
mask  and  foil  against  Captain  Thorn- 
cliffe,  the  bluff  and  hearty  soldier  who 
had  won  promotion  and  gazette  mention 
oft  and  over  for  his  ability  in  fighting. 

Yawning,  the  dancing-master  went 
to  the  window. 

"You  are  strong,  Dubarre,  I  know. 
Why  don't  you  fence,  or  shoot,  or  ride?" 
asked  Captain  Thorncliffe,  as  he  was 
getting  ready. 

The  one  addressed  laughed.  "Those 
accomplishments  are  scarce  within  the 
province  of  a  dancing-master,  monsieur; 
but  I  have  tried  all  three." 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


"When?" 

"One  day  when  you  were  away  I 
crossed  foils  as  humble  substitute  with 
Sir  John.  Mon  Dieu!  He  covered  my 
body  with  little  round  blue  spots  that 
gave  pain  for  days.  Then  I  essayed  to 
shoot.  Sir  Henry  Percy's  big  Jersey 
bull  suffered.  Lastly,  I  tried  riding." 

"Well?"  questioned  Captain  Thorn- 
cliff  e,  laughing. 

Dubarre  shook  his  head  sadly.  "The 
ladies  had  to  do  without  dancing  les- 
sons for  a  week." 

"Come,  are  you  ready,  Hal?"  asked 
Sir  John,  impatiently,  and  they  crossed 
swords,  while  Dubarre  turned  back  to 
his  window.  Soon  the  noise  forced  him 
to  look  around. 

Assuredly  the  bout  was  becoming  hot- 
ter every  minute.  The  narrow  place  of 
arms  resounded  to  the  trampling  of  feet, 
while  over  all  the  two  blades  sang  their 
rasping,  clashing  song  of  the  steel.  Up 
26 


DANCING     AND     DIPLOMACY 

and  down  the  room  the  contest  waged, 
now  Captain  Harry  Thorncliffe  and  now 
Sir  John  Wilmerding  holding  the  ad- 
vantage. They  fenced  with  the  eager 
animosity  of  tried  friends  opposed  in 
mimic  combat. 

' '  Touched ! ' '  Captain  Thorncliffe  cried 
it,  and,  stepping  back,  raised  his  foil, 
smiling. 

"No,  Hal,  I  protest;  you  touched  me 
not.  Your  point  failed  to  reach  by 
quite  an  inch.  I  twisted  away  as  I  saw 
it  coming." 

Sir  John  was  almost  angry  in  his  dis- 
claimer. Captain  Thorncliffe  still  show- 
ed his  good-humored  smile. 

"Come,  come,  Jack,  be  generous. 
You  have  beaten  so  many  that  you  can 
easily  afford  me  one  little  point.  Be- 
sides, I  know  I  touched  you.  I  felt  it 
plainly.  'Twas  the  old  French  Percy  trick 
that  involuted  me  from  Spain.  We'll  let 
Monsieur  Dubarre  decide  as  referee." 
27 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

Sir  John  sneered.  "What  can  a 
dancing-master  know  of  fencing?  Let 
him  stick  to  his  jigs,  where  he  is  at  home. 
Zounds!  You  choose  a  queer  umpire 
between  gentlemen,  Hal." 

Dubarre,  who  had  been  watching  the 
fight  with  indifferent  attention,  reddened 
ever  so  slightly.  He  walked  over  and 
with  the  utmost  respect  offered  Sir  John 
his  handkerchief. 

"Would  monsieur  have  me  wipe  off 
the  chalk  from  his  plastron?"  he  said, 
and  deftly  pointed  out  a  faint  white  dot 
on  the  red  heart  of  the  plastron. 

It  was  Sir  John's  time  to  redden, 
Captain  Thorncliffe's  chance  to  roar. 

"Pardon,  gentlemen,"  said  the  danc- 
ing-master, "I  cannot  umpire  longer, 
for  Mistress  Percy  desired  me  to  bring 
her  Sir  John  Suckling's  verses  from  the 
library." 

As  the  door  closed  after  Dubarre, 
Captain  Thorncliffe  pulled  off  the  mask 
28 


DANCING     AND     DIPLOMACY 

to  laugh.     "Zounds!  my  beating  you 
was  nothing  to  what  he  did,  Jack." 

"The  impudent  dog!"  exclaimed  Sir 
John.  "How  could  he  have  seen  that 
chalk-mark?" 


Ill 


MARRIAGE    VERSUS    POETRY 


VERY  girl  should  desire  to  mar- 


Sir  Henry  Percy  puffed  out  his  stom- 
ach and  pursed  up  his  lips  to  emphasize 
this  distinctly  orthodox  sentiment.  He 
was  a  large,  heavy  man,  who  thought 
that  God  made  the  Percys  and  then  the 
world  to  fit  them. 

"But  I  don't  intend  to  marry." 

Mistress  Percy  stamped  her  little  foot, 
and  that  made  Sir  Henry's  emphasis 
seem  tame. 

"My  child!"  His  tone  and  face 
showed  such  ridiculously  pitiful  wonder 
that  in  a  moment  she  had  changed  from 
laughter. 


MARRIAGE     VERSUS      POETRY 

"At  least,  dad,"  with  an  upward 
flash  of  her  eyes — "at  least,  not  yet." 

"Ah!"  Sir  Henry  breathed  once 
more,  while  Sir  John  Wilmerding, 
standing  near,  became  again  his  nor- 
mal red. 

They  were  in  the  library,  where, 
through  the  semi-darkness,  the  books 
seemed  drawn  up  upon  the  wall  line 
upon  line,  in  unbroken,  serried  ranks  at 
strict  attention,  while  the  chairs,  each 
in  its  appointed  place  about  the  room, 
stood  at  picket  duty,  stiffly  watchful. 
And  all — the  books,  the  chairs,  the  table 
— plainly  resented  such  unwarranted, 
such  unusual  intrusion. 

For  this  was  the  serious  time  when 
the  years-fostered  plans  of  two  old  men 
and  the  day-dreams  of  one  young  one 
were  to  be  put  to  the  test  of  a  girl's  ca- 
price. From  earliest  childhood  she  had 
known  that  in  the  far-ahead,  hazy,  in- 
definite sometime  there  would  come  a 
3i 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

fateful  five  minutes  when  she  must  de- 
cide. In  those  days  when  old  Sir  Elmer 
Wilmerding  and  Sir  Henry  Percy  often 
sat  together  talking  of  their  lifetime 
friendship  and  the  shared  joys  of  the 
long  ago,  the  two  children  playing  in  the 
hall  knew  that  sooner  or  later  in  the 
talk  one  of  the  fathers  would  look  at 
them.  Then  invariably  both  men  rose, 
and,  standing,  the  old  cronies  would 
drink  a  health  to  the  children  whose 
future  union  was  to  cement  the  life-long 
comradeship  of  their  fathers.  That  ei- 
ther of  the  children  might  object  never 
entered  the  heads  of  the  two  squires. 
They  were  friends;  their  children  were 
to  marry;  that  was  all  there  was  to  it. 
More  than  once  the  little  girl  with  the 
big,  imaginative,  introspective  eyes  had 
cried  herself  to  sleep  at  the  prospect. 
Perhaps,  in  the  sometime,  she  might  love 
John  Wilmerding,  but  she  did  not  want 
to  have  to  love  him.  She  decided  the 
32 


MARRIAGE     VERSUS     POETRY 


best  way  to  manage  was  to  dominate 
him,  and  she  did. 

It  made  little  difference  to  John  Wil- 
merding  whether  he  had  by  rule  to  love 
May  Percy  or  not — he  just  could  not 
help  doing  it.  She  domineered  him, 
plagued  him,  laughed  at  him,  but  still 
he  loved  her.  It  was  very  much  after 
the  unhealthy  fashion  that  some  men 
adore  saints.  Fearing  her  much  and  not 
realizing  that  she  ate  and  slept  and  made 
mistakes  as  other  mortals,  he  had  never 
advanced  his  chances  from  boyhood  on. 

When  the  dictatorial  child  once  had 
her  slave  properly  cowed  so  that  he 
feared  to  importune  or  weary  her,  she 
cast  him  completely  out  of  her  mind. 
Sir  Elmer  died,  and.  the  new  Sir  John  in 
a  year  of  town  life  hurt  his  fortune  at 
cards  and  fought  one  duel  over  a  court 
lady.  Then  he  came  back  to  the  coun- 
try to  find  his  father-chosen  sweetheart 
a  marvellous  beauty.  Her  will  had 
3  33 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


grown  with  her  years,  and  it  was  good 
at  the  beginning.  Straightway  Sir  John 
fell  back  into  his  old  allegiance,  and  still 
she  dominated  him  as  in  the  days  of 
their  childhood. 

Now  was  come  that  time  when,  under 
the  agreement  of  the  long  ago,  the  chil- 
dren were  to  be  brought  together.  Sir 
John  Wilmerding  knew  the  old  agree- 
ment by  heart — how  three  days  before 
her  seventeenth  birthday  they  must  be 
betrothed.  The  marriage  might  be  de- 
layed two  years,  but  no  longer. 

It  was  a  merely  formal  matter  of  a  few 
minutes,  Sir  Henry  Percy  thought,  as 
he  called  the  young  man  and  girl  to  the 
library  that  morning.  The  baronet  was 
in  a  hurry  to  get  away  for  his  ride,  but 
decided  regretfully  that  he  ought  to 
spare  a  few  minutes  for  telling  his 
daughter  she  might  begin  preparing  for 
her  marriage. 

His  very  first  sentence  had  raised  the 
34 


MARRIAGE     VERSUS     POETRY 

storm.  Mistress  Percy  now  paced  up 
and  down  the  library  in  most  ungrown- 
up-like  excitement.  To  be  brought  face 
to  face  with  marriage  when  for  weeks 
she  had  been  planning  nothing  more 
serious  than  a  birthday  party  was 
enough  to  disconcert  any  about  -  to  -  be- 
seventeen-year-old  miss. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of  this, 
dad?"  she  demanded,  stopping  short 
and  regarding  the  two  men  standing 
helpless  before  her. 

"My  child,  the  agreement — you  knew 
it,"  he  protested,  weakly. 

"Agreement!  How  could  you  and 
Sir  Elmer  agree  whom  I  should  marry?" 

She  was  angry  now  clear  through,  and 
had  won  too  many  battles  with  her 
usually  blustering  father  to  doubt  the 
outcome.  He  always  blustered,  then 
meekly  gave  in. 

"But,  May,"  Sir  Henry  answered, 
more  firmly  now  as  the  Percy  stubborn- 
35 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


ness  aroused  itself,  "Sir  Elmer  desired 
it,  I  desired  and  do  desire  it.  Remember 
your  duty  to  your  father,  child.  John 
Wilmerding,  now — " 

"Yes,"  she  sneered,  "John  Wilmer- 
ding has  always  been  a  most  dutiful 
son." 

The  sneer  was  far  beyond  the  good 
Sir  Henry. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so, 
my  daughter.  John  Wilmerding  is,  in- 
deed, a  dutiful  son,  just  as  I  am  sure  my 
May  is  going  to  be  a  dutiful  daughter. 
Why,  damme,  girl,  I'd  risk  my  last  acre 
on  your  doing  what  your  old  dad  thinks 
best." 

"But  you  can't  want  me  to  marry 
a  man  I  don't  love,  father?"  The  word 
"father"  in  place  of  the  old,  familiar, 
loving  "dad"  should  have  warned  him, 
but  it  did  not. 

"Love!  Pouf!  Fiddlesticks!"  The 
squire  fairly  snorted.  "What's  love  got 


MARRIAGE     VERSUS     POETRY 

to  do  with  housewifery,  the  ordering  of 
servants,  and  the  raising  of  a  family? 
You  do  these  things,  and  I'll  warrant  me 
John  Wilmerding  will  do  the  loving  for 
the  pair  of  you." 

Then  the  old  man  discovered  there 
were  two  Percys  in  that  room.  The 
girl  drew  herself  up,  cold  and  white; 
only  her  eyes  were  blazing. 

"John  Wilmerding  may  gamble  or 
fight  his  way  into  another's  love,  father, 
but  I  don't  intend  to  marry  him."  Her 
tone  was  calm,  even,  rigorously  in- 
different. It  might  have  been,  "  I  don't 
care  for  a  glass  of  water,  thank  you." 

Sir  John  Wilmerding  went  white  to 
the  lips;  Sir  Henry  Percy  red  to  his  ear 
tips. 

"You  d  -  d  -  don't,"  he  stammered. 
"  W  -  why — d  -  d  -  damme,  you  bag- 
gage, you  shall  marry  him.  Do  you 
think  I  am  going  to  be  put  out  by  a 
chit  of  a  sixteen-year-old  girl,  my  own 
37 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

child  at  that?  Not  marry  Wilmerding? 
Why  not  ?  Now  you  shall  marry  him,  if 
he  were  the  worst  rake  in  the  county,  if 
he  had  fought  a  dozen  duels  over  a 
dozen  women  instead  of  one.  Do  you 
want  a  milksop  for  a  husband?  If 
you  do,  I  want  no  whey-faced  preaching 
parson  for  a  son-in-law.  I  tell  you,  he's 
only  a  lad  of  spirit."  And,  turning,  Sir 
Henry  patted  the  white-faced  young 
man  on  the  shoulder  affectionately. 
"  Did  you  ever  see  a  finer  boy?"  he  said, 
and  whirled  back  to  face  his  daughter. 

Then  his  jaw  dropped  very  suddenly. 
May  Percy  had  gone  over  to  the  table, 
seated  herself,  and  was  busily  turning  the 
leaves  of  a  book  as  though  searching  for 
something. 

"What  are  you  doing  now?"  asked 
Sir  Henry,  in  very  different  tones. 

"I  was  trying,"  she  said,  courteously, 
"to  find  that  piece  Mr.  Butler  wrote, 
in  which  he  says: 

38 


MARRIAGE     VERSUS     POETRY 

"  '  Atone  for  sins  they  are  inclined  to 

By  damning  those  they  have  no  mind  to.' 

I  thought  probably  you  and  Sir  John 
might  like  to  read  it.  It  damns  the 
whey-faced  hypocrites  in  great  style." 

Sir  Henry's  face  became  mottled 
purple  now. 

"You  impudent  hussy!"  he  cried, 
and  started  towards  her,  but  she  met 
him  half-way  with  a  glass  of  water 
snatched  hastily  from  the  table. 

"Dad,  dear  dad" — her  tone  was  all 
anxiety  now — "do  be  careful;  you'll 
have  a  spell.  Nothing  could  be  worth 
that,  dad.  Here,  drink  this,"  and  she 
forced  the  water  on  him.  Sir  Henry 
pushed  it  aside  and  sat  down  heavily 
in  a  chair. 

"  May,  little  girl,  you'll  break  your  old 
dad's  heart." 

Defied  and  beaten  at  every  point  by 
the  child,  whose  will  was  the  stronger, 
the  old  squire  could  only  sit  and  shake 
39 


THE     C'ASTLE     COMEDY 

his  head  mournfully.  It  was  new 
tactics  for  him.  Like  a  little  girl,  May 
Percy  climbed  on  his  knee,  put  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  her  cheek  against  his. 
"Not  for  anything,  dad,"  she  whispered. 

John  Wilmerding  looked  on  and  wish- 
ed himself  a  thousand  miles  away.  The 
father  began  to  talk  once  more,  piteous- 
ly,  beseechingly,  mournfully. 

"It's  my  honor,  little  sweetheart,  you 
see.  The  Percy  honor — think  of  that. 
I  pledged  Sir  Elmer  my  word  that  you 
should  marry  John.  The  happy  union 
of  you  two  children  was  to  be  the  fruit 
of  our  life-long  friendship.  We  pledged 
ourselves  to  it  and  even  drew  up  an 
agreement.  When  you  were  girl  and 
boy  you  were  sweethearts,  and  then  you 
both  promised  us  that  you  would  marry. 
Don't  you  remember  that,  May?" 

"Yes,  dad,  yes,"  she  said. 

He    waited,    silent,    for    some    time. 
Then  he  began,  hesitatingly: 
40 


MARRIAGE 


POETRY 


"If — if  there  is  any  other,  girlie — if, 
if  you  are  in  love  with  another,  and  he 
is  a  gentleman  of  good  stock  and  fort- 
tune,  I  will  not  come  between  you.  I 
would  even  give  up  my  cherished  plans 
of  a  lifetime  to  see  you  married  happily 
to  a  brave  gentleman.  Are  you  now  in 
love  with  any  one  else?" 

She  sat  up  suddenly  on  his  knee 
and  looked  at  him  with  her  eyes  very 
wide. 

"Why,  no,  father;  whom  could  I  love? 
Captain  Thorncliffe  will  marry  Ethel, 
Sir  Harvey  Johnston  simpers,  James 
Bate  is  a  prig.  There  are  no  other 
gentlemen  in  the  neighborhood." 

Sir  Henry  gave  a  satisfied  grunt. 
"Right  you  are,  dearie,  every  time. 
You  say,  yourself,  there  are  no  other 
gentlemen  here.  Certainly  I  know  of 
JN^-  none  eligible.  Why,  now,  sweetheart, 
can't  you  marry  John?  Make  him 
happy.  Let  me  keep  my  word  to  my 


X 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

dead  friend.  Preserve  the  Percy  honor. 
That  will  save  your  old  dad's  heart,  and 
you  will  be  happy  besides." 

With  a  suspiciously  husky  gulp  the 
old  man  turned  to  John  Wilmer- 
ding. 

"You  young  fool,"  he  exclaimed, 
fiercely,  "talk  for  your  own  happiness. 
I've  done  enough  for  you." 

Then,  sitting  on  her  father's  knee, 
with  her  arms .  about  his  neck,  May 
Percy  listened  to  the  avowal  of  the 
childhood  lover,  whom  she  had  repulsed 
a  dozen  times.  He  made  it  with  all  the 
stilted  stiffness  of  a  frightened,  em- 
barrassed Englishman.  When  he  had 
finished,  the  girl  buried  her  head  on  her 
father's  shoulder. 

"Yes,  dad,  I'll  do  it  for  you,"  she 
whispered.  And  the  only  betrothal  kiss 
was  Sir  Henry's. 

"The  agreement  gives  me  two  years, 
and  I  intend  to  have  every  day  of  it," 
42 


MARRIAGE     VERSUS     POETRY 


she  said,  and  to  that  the  men  were  bound 
to  agree.  When  she  started  to  go,  Sir 
John  tried  to  kiss  her.  But  he  fell  back 
quickly,  for  she  had  snatched  up  Sir 
Henry's  riding-crop  and  brandished  it 
in  his  face. 

"When  you  are  my  husband  my  lips 
will  be  yours — possibly,"  she  said,  and 
strode  out  with  her  head  very  high. 
Sir  John  could  only  curse  under  his 
breath,  while  Sir  Henry  roared  at  the 
Percy  spirit. 

"She's  a  girl  worth  having,  my  boy, 
and  we'll  announce  it  at  the  birthday 
party,  that  you  may  be  sure  of  the 
prize." 

In  the  great  hall  Mistress  Percy  met 
her  friend  Ethel  Courtleigh,  still  flushed 
from  dancing. 

"Why  were  you  not  at  the  lesson, 
May?     Monsieur  Dubarre  was  teaching 
a  new  dance.     He  says  we  must  both 
practise  it  this  afternoon." 
43 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"I  don't  intend  to  practise.  There's 
no  use  in  it,  and  I'm  tired,"  answered 
May  Percy,  crossly. 

"Well,  you  had  better  tell  him  that," 
laughed  Ethel  Courtleigh.  "I'll  wager 
you  don't.  He's  out  under  the  big 
apple  -  tree  now  with  a  book  of  po- 
etry." 

"There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not 
tell  him.  I  will  do  it  at  once,"  replied 
Mistress  May,  and  she  started  for  the 
apple-tree. 

"My  riding-whip  'gainst  a  pair  of 
gloves  you  don't,"  cried  Ethel  Court- 
leigh after  her. 

His  pupil  found  the  dancing-master 
under  the  big  tree. 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  here  is  one  of  Sir 
John  Suckling's  poems  I  wish  to  read 
you,"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  saw 
her. 

It  would  have  been  rudeness  to  speak 
of  the  dancing  lesson  then,  so  she  put 
44 


MARRIAGE     VERSUS     POETRY 


off  the  disagreeable  topic, 
that  poem  beginning: 


He  read  her 


"Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover. 
Prithee,  why  so  pale?" 

and  several  others  besides. 

"  Here  is  one  I  never  noticed  before," 
he  said.     "Listen."     Then  he  repeated 

"  '  One  I  love, 
Two  I  love, 

Three  I  love,  I  say — 
But  which  of  these  I  love  the  most? 

To  that  I  must  plead  nay. 
The  first  is  tall  and  fair,  a  toast, 

And  this  one's  eyes  are  gray; 
Two's  Titian  hair,  now  on  the  coast, 

Disputes  the  God  of  Day, 
And  wit-stabbed  hearts  on  every  side 

Beat  loyal  to  her  sway. 
If  I  could  only  dare  the  boast 

That  three  might  in  some  way 
Be  robbed  of  all  her  foolish  pride 

And  taught  what  she  should  say, 
Forgetting  straight  the  other  two, 

For  her  black  eyes  I'd  play. 
But  which  of  these  I  love  the  most, 

Now  tell  me — can  you,  pray?'" 


^jh&H* 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

That  night  she  looked  over  Sir  John 
Suckling's  poems — once,  twice,  a  dozen 
times — but  she  could  not  find  the  one 
Monsieur  Dubarre  had  read. 

And  then  Mistress  Percy  pondered 
deeply. 


IV 


THE    NOBLEST    DAME    OP   ALL 

FOR  quite  a  minute  all  looked  at  Sir 
John  Wilmerding  in  well-bred  as- 
tonishment. 

"A  stupid  game!"  He  jerked  the 
bandage  from  his  eyes  and  threw  it  on 
the  ground.  "I  won't  be  a  donkey  for 
you  all,"  he  added,  in  disgust,  which  only 
gave  the  smiling  Mistress  Courtleigh  op- 
portunity to  murmur,  "If  one  could  al- 
ways choose!" 

It  was  May  Percy's  birthday  party, 
and  the  game  of  blind-man's-buff  had 
come  to  a  sudden  end.  They  were 
playing  out  on  the  big  lawn  beside  the 
castle.  That  lawn,  a  green,  clear  spot 
tucked  away  in  a  mile  of  thick-studded 
47 


•/t^S-*      A 


forest  trees,  was  just  large  enough  for  the 
ancient  turreted  structure  in  one  corner, 
with  the  five  acres  of  roses  to  the  right 
of  it,  and  the  small,  green  velvet  play- 
ground beyond.  Representatives  of  all 
the  neighboring  families  were  there: 
Alice  Harmon,  Elizabeth  Hampton,  and 
Dorothy  Stanfield,  with  Sir  John,  Cap- 
tain Thorncliffe,  Sir  Harvey  Johnston, 
the  rich  baronet  "who  simpered,"  and 
James  Bate,  the  exquisite  down  from 
town,  who  had  a  most  excellent  figure 
to  display  his  clothes. 

In  the  game  Sir  John  caught  Mistress 
Courtleigh,  then  misnamed  her  Percy, 
and  quickly  lost  temper  at  the  laugh 
upon  his  love  so  easily  displayed. 

"Sir  John  is  such  an  arch  flatterer," 
Mistress  Courtleigh  had  observed,  slyly, 
as  she  slipped  from  his  arms,  and  that 
precipitated  the  storm. 

Choking  with  anger  he  faced  them, 
while  for  a  moment  wonder  kept  the  rest 
48 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OP     ALL 


dumb.  Sir  Henry,  who  had  come  out, 
essayed  it,  but  only  Mistress  Percy  could 
quell  the  storm. 

"Come,  come,"  she  said,  easily,  "if 
Sir  John  is  tired,  I  don 't  blame  him  for 
stopping.  I  would  not  have  any  gentle- 
man weary  himself  against  his  will  for 
my  pleasure.  We'll  find  another  for  the 
bandage.  Gentlemen,  volunteers — step 
forward." 

She  paused  for  a  reply.  The  men 
seemed  yet  too  wonder-struck  to  move. 

"Such  modesty  I  have  never  seen." 
There  was  sarcasm  in  her  tone  now. 

"Let  us  find  one  ourselves,  then, 
May,"  suggested  Ethel  Courtleigh.  The 
girls  looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment, 
then  both  nodded. 

"Monsieur  Dubarre?" 

"The  very  one."     Ethel  Courtleigh's 

was  the  seconding  voice.     The  others 

were  silent  —  that  is,  all  but   Captain 

Thorncliffe.     Had    Mistress    Courtleigh 

4  49 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

proposed  the  devil,  the  captain  would 
have  fought  before  another  should  serve. 
Now  he  spoke  simply: 

"Where  is  Dubarre?" 

"Polishing  his  pumps  in  the  house, 
most  probably,  captain."  Sir  Henry 
could  not  better  conceal  his  anger  at  his 
daughter's  ill-timed  suggestion. 

Mistress  Percy  reddened  ever  so 
slightly.  "I'll  go  fetch  him,"  she  an- 
swered, quickly,  and  took  two  steps 
towards  the  house,  then  paused.  "Eff, 
come  with  me."  And  the  two  girls 
went  hand-in-hand  along  the  narrow 
path  that  ran  beside  the  edge  of  the 
lawn  through  the  roses  to  the  house, 
hunting  for  a  willing  blind-man. 

The  others  looked  at  one  another  and 
at  Sir  John.  It  was  too  good  an  oppor- 
tunity to  let  pass.  Sir  Harvey  John- 
ston opened  the  play. 

"  Mistress  Percy  picked  a  strange  one," 
he  simpered. 

50 


^ 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 

James  Bate,  the  exquisite,  glanced  at 
his  own  well  -  turned  legs.  "A  good 
dancer  should  catch  any  girl." 

"Perhaps  he  will  beat  Sir  John,"  re- 
marked Elizabeth  Hampton,  innocently. 

Then  Alice  Harmon's  enthusiasm 
overflowed.  "  Monsieur  Dubarre  is  very 
handsome?" 

"And  bright,"  added  Mistress  Doro- 
thy Stanfield,  looking  at  Sir  John. 

"His  low  birth  is  a  pity,  though," 
said  the  first  speaker,  in  tones  that  im- 
plied a  doubt  of  it. 

Dorothy  Stanfield  tossed  her  head. 
"Oh,  that  makes  him  so  interesting. 
If  I  were  a  man  I'd  fear  him  for  a  rival." 
Rumor  had  it  that  Mistress  Stanfield 
kept  an  anxious  eye  on  the  Wilmerding 
acres. 

Sir  John  still  showed  his  irritation, 
though  he  tried  bravely  to  talk  to  Sir 
Henry  as  if  undisturbed. 

"All   Frenchmen   are   sad   flirts,   are 

51 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


they  not?"  inquired  Elizabeth  Hamp- 
ton, apparently  at  hirst  for  information. 

Mistress  Stanfield  answered  her.  "  For 
shame,  Bess  —  why,  he's  only  French 
enough  to  be  fascinating.  He  talks 
English  like  an  Englishman.  Don't  you 
think  so,  Sir  John?" 

Before  the  lover  could  reply  Sir  Henry 
Percy's  spleen  put  his  discretion  clean  to 
flight. 

"Sir  John  could  scarce  be  jealous  of 
the  antics  of  a  renegade  French  jig- 
stepper,"  he  exclaimed,  fiercely. 

And  when  they  all  looked  up,  the  jig- 
stepper,  with  the  girls  beside  him,  was 
at  hand.  The  faces  of  two  told  that 
they  had  heard.  The  Frenchman's 
well-trained  countenance  seldom  spoke 
but  on  orders  from  within.  Now  it  was 
blank. 

As  though  accustomed,  Dubarre  as- 
sumed easily  the  dominating  place. 

"Schottische?"  he  questioned.     And 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 

they  entered  straightway  into  the  spirit 
of  it. 

"No,  no!"  they  cried. 

"Valse,  then?" 

"Never.     Never." 

"Polka?"  with  a  shrug. 

"Not  to-day." 

"Or  minuet?"  he  asked.  Then,  most 
persuasively,  "The  stately  minuet?" 

They  laughed  at  him. 

He  threw  up  his  hands  in  despair. 
"  What,  then,  can  the  poor  dancing-mas- 
ter do?  What  is  it  that  you  want?" 
The  question  was  to  all ;  the  look  for  May 
Percy  alone. 

"Blind-man's-buff,"  she  said. 

"Well,  to  the  victim,  the  bandage," 
and  with  his  usual  nonchalance  he 
placed  himself  obediently  in  the  hands 
of  Captain  Thorncliffe  and  Mistress 
Courtleigh,  the  arch-persecutors. 

"Is  it  tight  enough?"  asked  Mistress 
Courtleigh. 

S3 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"Close  as  your  image  to  my  heart, 
fair  lady,"  he  answered,  gallantly. 

"So  loose  as  that?  Captain  Thorn- 
cliffe,  we  must  pull  harder."  The 
captain  did  his  best. 

James  Bate's  pro-British  must  out. 
"Frenchmen  work  well  in  the  dark." 

"They  must,  to  ferret  English  plots," 
came  the  quick  answer. 

"A  nation  of  runners,"  simpered  Sir 
Harvey  Johnston. 

"Trained  by  chasing  the  world's 
armies." 

Then  they  spun  Dubarre  off  into 
darkness.  Now  he  went  groping  about, 
this  way  and  that,  all  the  while  com- 
plaining aloud  of  the  high  English 
courtesy  that  made  them  stand  aside 
for  the  humble  dancing-master. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  chance  of  the  game 
that  brought  Sir  John  Wilmerding  be- 
side May  Percy. 

'That    was    a    pretty    scene,"    he 
54 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 

whispered,  sneering.  She  looked  at 
him,  surprised. 

"Lugging  in  a  French  nobody,"  he 
explained,  angry.  "I  had  to  stand  by 
and  see — " 

"Look  out,  monsieur  is  coming  this 
way!" 

She  cried  it,  to  stop  the  foolish  lover, 
only  tactless  jealousy  would  not  let  him 
cease. 

"Who  is  he?"  was  the  next  demand, 
when  the  flurry  was  past.  His  tone  was 
now  low,  eager,  angry,  but  the  girl 
paid  little  attention.  Instead  of  reply- 
ing, she  cried  to  the  blind-man  : 

"  Be  careful,  monsieur,  you'll  take  the 
bench — you'll  be  a  judge!" 

"And  should  I  not,  mademoiselle?" 
he  answered,  laughing.  "Justice  is 
blind.  Beware,  yourself;  I'll  catch  you." 

"  He  suddenly  appears  at  your  father's 
home,"  exclaimed  Sir  John,  "and,  like 
any  other  menial,  begs  a  position."  He 

55 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

was  too  angry  to  be  careful  now.  The 
girl  pulled  at  his  sleeve  to  make  him 
cease. 

"Be  quiet;  don't  you  see  monsieur  is 
coming?"  she  whispered.  That  was  the 
last  straw. 

"A  toe  -  kicker,"  cried  Wilmerding, 
aloud,  and  May  Percy  started  forward, 
away  from  him. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  you'll  catch  me," 
she  laughed  in  Dubarre's  face,  then, 
dodging  weakly,  almost  fell  into  his 
arms.  There  he  held  her  as  men  hold 
their  dearest  possessions. 

"Who  is  she?  Guess  who  she  is!" 
the  rest  shouted. 

Dubarre  straightened.  ' '  My — I  mean, 
Mademoiselle  Percy,"  he  said,  and, 
releasing  her,  bowed  with  the  deep 
reverence  of  a  subject  before  his  queen. 

"Good!     Good!"  cried  the  others. 

Sir  John  strode  for  comfort  over  be- 
side Sir  Henry. 

56 


OH,    I  M    NOT    AFRAID    YOU  LL    CATCH    ME,      SHE    LAUGHED' 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 

The  blind-man  came  back  to  light. 
He  stood  in  the  midst  of  them  all,  smil- 
ing slightly  and  holding  the  bandage 
in  one  hand.  May  Percy  was  beside 
him.  The  others  stood  about,  but 
these  two  seemed  in  some  way  to  be 
off  to  themselves,  apart  from  the  rest. 
The  girl  looked  at  her  captor  with  a 
sort  of  troubled  archness.  Something, 
it  was,  of  the  same  look  she  had  worn 
when  he  made  her  dance  the  minuet. 
At  last  she  spoke,  and  the  tone  was 
troubled,  uncertain,  questioning. 

"I  tried,  yet  I  could  not  escape  you. 
I  have  gotten  past  all  our  gallants  easily. 
I  don't  understand." 

Then  evidently  the  dancing  -  master 
forgot  himself.  He  bent  towards  her, 
eager,  earnest  to  explain. 

"Mademoiselle  but  slipped  a  little. 
My  good-fortune  caught  her.  Mistress 
Percy  is  handicapped  always,  for  no  man 
can  stay  long  away." 


Is, 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


The  glance  that  flashed  about  the 
circle  showed  amazement  then. 

Sir  Henry  Percy,  already  black  as 
midnight,  grew  ponderous  in  his  rage. 
"Come,  come,  children!"  he  bellowed, 
"it's  almost  time  for  the  feast.  Hurry 
away  to  prepare  yourselves,"  and  thus 
rudely  he  broke  up  the  game. 

Gayly  they  moved  towards  the  castle, 
the  girls  gossiping  together. 

"Isn't  he  graceful?"  exclaimed  Alice 
Harmon.  "Did  you  ever  see  such 
quickness,  catching  May?" 

Ethel  Courtleigh  laughed.  "Tut, 
child,  didn't  you  see  him  peeping?" 

"For  my  part,"  observed  Elizabeth 
Hampton,  "I  believe  she  slipped  on 
purpose." 

Dubarre  still  stood  where  he  had 
caught  May  Percy.  He  was  looking 
at  the  bandage  in  his  hand  and 
smiling  with  a  sort  of  puzzled,  quizzi- 
cal wonder  —  as  it  were,  laughing  at 

58 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 

himself.  Sir  Henry  Percy  broke  the 
spell. 

"Monsieur" — with  marked  emphasis 
on  the  title — "seems  strangely  at  home 
at  the  game  of  blind-man's-buff." 

Sir  John  followed  the  lead. 

"Certainly  he  displays  rare  excellence. 
One  might  imagine  he  had  played 
diligently  at  it  from  childhood,  with  the 
French  army,  perhaps." 

Dubarre  looked  up.  "No,  no, 
messieurs,"  he  laughed,  "not  there. 
The  Emperor  reverses  the  game.  His 
enemies  are  blindfold." 

Sir  Henry  Percy  and  Sir  John  walked 
away  with  much  dignity,  but  without 
giving  a  reply.  Dubarre  resumed  his 
musing. 

Now  a  big  oak,  the  captain  of  the 
encircling  host  of  trees,  stood  out  in  the 
centre  foreground  of  the  lawn.  There 
was  a  bench  on  the  dark  side  of  the 
tree,  and  the  path  through  the  garden  to 
59 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

the  castle  ran  past  it  on  the  right,  and 
on  the  left  continued  to  the  woodland 
lodge,  where  the  dancing-master  lived, 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

The  birthday  feast  was  to  be  set  on 
the  lawn  near  this  "captain"  tree,  and 
there,  leaning  against  the  bench,  Pierre 
had  left  his  harp.  Mistress  Percy, 
starting  towards  the  house  after  the 
others,  stopped  in  the  garden  to  get  a 
flower  for  her  hair,  then  returned  to  the 
lawn  to  superintend  the  placing  of  the 
tables  for  the  birthday  feast.  Coming 
along  the  path,  she  stepped  from  behind 
the  big  tree  almost  to  overrun  Dubarre. 
Both  started. 

"You  here?"  she  exclaimed. 

The  man  drew  back.  "I  am  in 
mademoiselle's  way?" 

"No,  oh  no,"  she  protested. 

"Mademoiselle  is  disturbed.  Unwell, 
perhaps."  There  was  insistence  in  his 
speech. 

60 


THE      NOBLEST     DAME      OF     ALL 


"You  know  I'm  not." 

Still  he  seemed  bent  on  forcing  it. 
"What,  then,  mademoiselle?" 

Quickly  she  faced  him,  all  sternness. 
"Tis  you,  sir." 

For  the  first  time  since  they  had  met 
the  girl  had  the  upper  hand. 

"I?"  he  cried,  aghast. 

"Yes,  you've  been  remiss."  The 
words  were  a  rebuke;  the  tone,  utter 
condemnation.  They  swept  him  to  in- 
glorious defeat. 

"  I  remiss  to  you?  Oh,  mademoiselle!" 
He  dropped  on  one  knee,  pain  in  every 
look  and  word  and  gesture. 

"Yes,  you've  not  given  me  my 
dancing  lesson."  And  the  smile  that 
broke  over  her  face  as  she  said  it 
showed  the  first  awakening  of  one  who 
begins  to  know. 

Dubarre  sprang  to  his  feet  all  ablaze 
with  happiness. 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,  like  le  bon  Dieu, 
61 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

you  give  pain  that  great  joy  may  fol- 
low." 

"Monsieur!"  That  was  all,  but  the 
smile,  still  there,  spoke  volumes. 

"It  was  your  birthday.  I  thought 
the  lesson  forgot."  He  cried  it  eagerly 
as  a  defence. 

"Monsieur!"  Reproachfully  this  time 
she  said  it. 

"But  how  I  shall  atone!" 

"The  minuet." 

"With  Pierre  and  his  harp,"  the 
man  broke  in,  delightedly.  He  ran  to 
the  path  and  called  over  towards  the 
lodge,  "Pierre!  Pierre!"  then  came  back 
to  the  girl  beside  the  tree. 

"Have  you  taught  many  ladies  of 
France  the  minuet,  monsieur?"  she 
asked,  as  they  waited  for  Pierre. 

"I  fear  that  none  can  now  be  taught, 
mademoiselle." 

She  drew  up  coldly.  "Which  means, 
of  course,  they  all  know.  We  English 
62 


"'HAVE  YOU  TAUGHT  MANY  LADIES  OF  FRANCE  THE  MINUET, 
MONSIEUR?'" 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 

girls  are  perhaps  more  backward.  We 
learn  more  of  housewifery,  less  of  junket- 
ings and  furbelows." 

After  that  there  was  silence  until 
Pierre  appeared. 

"A  minuet,  Pierre."  The  dancing- 
master  spoke  in  his  most  professional 
tone.  The  music  began  and  they  took 
positions. 

As  their  hands  met  in  the  dance: 
"And  does  the  house —  Oh,  what  do 
you  call  it?"  asked  Dubarre. 

"Housewifery?"  prompted  the  girl. 

"Yes,  that's  it,   does  that  give  the* 
grand  air,  mademoiselle?"  he  questioned, 
most  innocently. 

"Does  flattery  come  within  your 
province,  Monsieur  Dubarre?"  she  an- 
swered. "  'Twas  brave  of  you." 

"  Even  a  po"or  dancing-master  can  be 
brave  for  the  truth,  mademoiselle." 

There  was  no  reply  for  that. 

"You  s"aid   your    countrywomen   do 

63 


<y 


Jl 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

not  care  for  the  minuet.  Why  is  it?" 
she  asked,  after  a  pause. 

His  face  lighted.  "Because  their 
hearts  pump  warm  blood,  mademoiselle, 
not  freezing  water  that  boils  only  from 
anger.  For  such,  the  minuet,  but  for 
women  of  heart,  the  dance." 

"The  dance?"  She  stopped  and  look- 
ed the  question.  "One  we  English 
would  like?  What  is  the  dance?" 

The  time,  the  scene,  the  maid  had  all 
combined  to  make  the  Frenchman  reck- 
less. The  poetry  of  his  French  nature 
was  uppermost. 

"It  is  a  world's  music  throbbing  in 
one's  feet  —  this  dance!  Ah,  made- 
moiselle, to  a  man — "  He  paused. 

"Yes,  to  a  man — "she  repeated,  slowly. 

"It  is  sometimes  to  carry  heaven  in 
his  arms  until  his  very  heart  sings  in  its 
joy." 

"  Carry  heaven  in  his  arms, monsieur?" 

"I  mean  the  valse,  mademoiselle. 
64 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 


Would  you  valse?"  His  eagerness  was 
overwhelming. 

To  her  cheeks  there  came  the  quick 
flush  that  faded  quick  again;  in  her 
eyes  that  look  of  sweet  yet  arch  sur- 
render. "You  are  the  dancing-master, 
monsieur." 

"Pierre,  a  valse,"  he  cried. 

Then  Dubarre  stepped  close  and  put 
his  arm  about  her. 

"With  all  respect,  mademoiselle." 

She  yielded,  and  they  began  waltzing 
slowly. 

Now  Dubarre  spoke.  "One,  two, 
three  —  one,  two,  three.  Ah,  made- 
moiselle, 'tis  the  poetry  of  life  clothed 
in  the  joy  of  motion.  Can  you  not  feel, 
for  thus  'gainst  each  other  hearts'  talk, 
throb  to  throb." 

Over  beside  the  tree  Pierre  began  to 
show  signs  of  uneasiness. 

May  Percy's  head  was  bent  down. 
Her  breast  moved  with  deep  breaths,  a 
s  65 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


dawning  pink  had  stolen  to  her  cheeks. 
Dubarre  looked  at  her. 

"Pardon,  mademoiselle,  I  was  wrong. 
Tis  far  more  beautiful  when  the  warmth 
of  an  English  heart  melts  the  mask  of  ice 
from  off  the  face."  He  half -whispered 
the  words. 

Pierre  coughed  sudden  warning. 

The  man  continued,  eagerly,  "Then, 
then,  mademoiselle — " 

Again  Pierre  coughed  aloud.  Du- 
barre glanced  that  way.  The  harpist, 
with  his  head,  was  making  violent  signs 
of  disapproval. 

The  hands  of  the  dancing-master  fell. 
He  stepped  back  suddenly  and  bowed. 
When  he  spoke  it  was  in  quite  altered 
tones,  and  very  sad. 

"But,  mademoiselle,  I  forgot.  There 
is  another  dance,  quite  another  dance — 
the  dance  of  the  sword,  where  men 
choose  honor  for  a  partner  and  go  down 
to  meet  death  at  the  end.  And  that, 
66 


THE     NOBLEST     DAME     OF     ALL 

mademoiselle,  is  the  grandest  dance  of 
all." 

They  stood  apart,  looking  at  each 
other.  In  his  face  she  watched 
struggling  resolution  gain  hard  mastery, 
while  he  saw  but  blushing  wonder  and 
the  questioning  softness  of  her  eyes. 
And  as  they  stood  thus  there  floated 
over  from  the  harp  the  air  of  an  old 
French  love  -  song,  a  song  of  parting. 
But  louder,  from  the  direction  of  the 
house,  came  the  hearty  voice  of  Sir 
Henry  Percy,  calling,  "  May!  Oh,  May!" 


HER    DANCING-MASTER  S    TOAST 


MAY!  Oh,  May!" 
Again  the  big  voice  of  Sir  Henry 
Percy  bawled  across  the  lawn.  The 
noise  of  it  shattered  the  air  of  the  French 
love-song,  and  broke  in  rudely  on  the 
man  and  girl  standing  there  silent, 
looking  at  each  other.  They  dropped 
again  from  the  cloud-world  of  fine 
romance  to  hard  earth  with  a  jar.  The 
wonder,  the  blush,  the  softness,  all 
faded  from  the  girl's  face  as  she  turned 
towards  the  house. 

"Here,  father,  here!"  she  cried. 

Then    Sir    Henry    Percy,    Sir    John 
Wilmerding,    Captain    Thorncliffe,  and 
two   strange   men   appeared.     The   old 
squire  was  plainly  perplexed. 
68 


HER    DANCING-MASTER'S    TOAST 

"What  am  I  to  do  with  these,  May?" 
he  questioned,  helplessly,  indicating  the 
strangers.  "Another  pair  of  beggarly 
Frenchmen." 

Dubarre  heard  and  bowed.  "Your 
kindness  preserved  one  beggar  French- 
man, monsieur.  He  will  be  always 
grateful." 

One  of  the  new-comers,  a  man  of  about 
Dubarre's  size  and  general  appearance, 
seemed  to  think  it  was  time  for  his 
appeal.  With  a  wanderer's  skill  he  went 
straight  to  headquarters. 

"Will  ze  kind  lady  help  zis  poh 
Frenchman?" 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  May  Percy, 
gently. 

The  stranger  became  instantly 
voluble. 

"My   name,    Jacques    Fourney.     My 

cousin,  Jean."     Then,  he  indicated  by 

signs  that  Jean  was  deaf  and  dumb. 

"We  run  from  ze  la  belle  France,  from 

69 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

ze  leetle  Corsican.  He  hate  us.  We 
look  for  comrades,  les  bons  comrades, 
who  came  before.  We  meet,  zen  we  be 
so  happy,  but  " — as  he  noted  the  tables 
which  the  servants  had  begun  to  spread 
for  the  feast — "so  hungry." 

May  Percy's  mind  was  already  made 
up.  "  Father,  no  person  shall  go  hungry 
from  here  on  my  birthday,"  she  cried. 
"These  men  must  stay,  eat,  and  rest  to- 
night. To-morrow  you  will  give  them  a 
little  money  to  help  them  on  their  way 
to  find  their  comrades." 

Then  Dubarre  spoke. 

"Mademoiselle,  may  not  all  the  beg- 
gar Frenchmen  be  together  ?  I  will  gladly 
share  my  room  with  my  compatriots." 

At  the  words  Jacques  Fourney  looked 
quickly  at  the  speaker.  For  a  moment 
their  eyes  met.  Then  Fourney's  glance 
fell. 

"The  very  thing!"  exclaimed  Sir 
Henry  Percy. 

70 


HER     DANCING-MASTER  S     TOAST 

"Yes,  a  good  plan  —  all  together," 
echoed  Sir  John. 

Mistress  Percy  turned  to  Dubarre. 
"Certainly,  monsieur,  if  it  gives  you 
pleasure,"  she  said.  And  so  the  matter 
was  settled.  As  Dubarre  led  the  new- 
comers off  towards  the  house  Captain 
Thorncliffe  was  coming  to  the  lawn. 
At  sight  of  the  smaller  Frenchman  the 
soldier  checked  suddenly,  looked  in 
puzzled  fashion,  then  came  on,  evident- 
ly wondering.  The  little  Frenchman 
ducked  his  head  and  hurried  after  Du- 
barre. 

The  tables  had  been  set,  the  feast 
brought  on,  and  the  guests  came 
trooping  back.  May  Percy,  from  her 
post  at  the  head  of  the  table,  seated 
them. 

"On  my  left,  captain;  Ethel,  next  to 
him;  next  to  Ethel,  James;  and  you, 
Alice,  on  my  father's  right."  Then  she 
motioned  for  Sir  John  to  sit  at  her  own 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

right  hand.     "Dorothy  —  Sir  Henry  — 
Elizabeth." 

"I'm  sorry  the  bishop  is  not  here  to 
ask  the  blessing,"  quoth  Sir  Henry. 
"You  should  have  brought  him,  Sir 
Harvey." 

"His  Grace's  gout  prevented,"  an- 
swered Sir  Harvey  Johnston,  "but  he 
hopes  to  be  over  in  a  day  or  two." 

Now  all  were  in  place  and  the  feast 
began.  Seated  on  the  bench  behind 
the  big  tree,  a  dozen  feet  away  and 
almost  out  of  sight,  Pierre,  at  the  harp, 
made  music  for  the  diners.  Dubarre 
had  gone  to  show  the  strangers  his 
room.  Such  feasts  were  not  for  rene- 
gade dancing-teachers. 

Gradually,  at  the  table,  appetites  sur- 
rendered, and  there  came  that  time 
when  tongues  were  loosed  in  praise  of 
host  and  hostess.  Captain  Thorncliffe 
had  been  descanting  on  the  virtues  and 
might  of  the  Percys. 
72 


V 


HER     DANCING-MASTER  S     TOAST 

"Why,  even  the  French  have  a 
Percy,"  he  exclaimed,  as  a  climax. 

"Indeed?"  asked  Sir  John  Wilmer- 
ding,  with  interest. 

"And  he  is  the  worst  devil  in  the 
army,"  added  the  enthusiastic  cap- 
tain. 

"  Sedition!  Sedition!"  went  the  laugh- 
ing cry  about  the  table,  and  Sir  Henry 
came  quickly  with  explanations  for  his 
family. 

"He is  my  cousin."  The  squire  spoke 
very  much  after  the  same  fashion  as 
would  have  admitted,  "My  brother  died 
of  leprosy." 

But  Thorncliffe  was  honest  in  his 
admiration. 

"Indeed,  you  should  be  proud  of  the 
connection,  sir,"  he  said,  while  May 
*  Percy  clapped  her  hands,  crying: 

"Good,  captain,  good!" 

"Tell  us!  Is  he  handsome?  Let  us 
know  all  about  him.  What  has  he 
*•*  73 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


done?"  came  the  irregular  fire  of  ques- 
tions from  the  rest. 

"Well,"  said  the  captain,  medita- 
tively, "for  one  thing,  he  stole  General 
Wellington's  papers." 

"A  thief!"  It  was  the  horrified 
chorus. 

"Ay,  and  one  of  the  boldest,"  laughed 
the  soldier.  "When  we  started  from 
Lisbon  we  were  warned  of  this  French 
Percy,  who  might  pass  anywhere  for 
English." 

Interested  in  what  promised  to  be  a 
good  story,  none  noticed  Dubarre,  who, 
coming  along  the  path  from  his  lodge, 
quietly  took  his  seat  on  the  bench  beside 
Pierre  and  began  to  listen. 

"A  traitor  is  this  Percy?"  asked  Sir 
John. 

Sir  Henry  answered:  "His  mother 
was  my  cousin,  Sarah  Percy." 

"Daughter  of  Cousin  John,"  added 
May  Percy. 

74 


DANCING-MASTER  S 


"He    disin- 
ran   away  with 


Her    father    nodded, 
herited  her  when  she 
the  Vicomte  de  St.  Croix. 
saw  her  again." 

A  gentle  "Ah!"  of  sympathy  for  the 
disinherited  daughter  of  the  long-ago 
ran  from  girl  to  girl  about  the  table. 

"There  was  no  heir;  the  place  came 
to  our  branch,"  continued  Sir  Henry. 
"I  believe  her  son  is  called  Percy.  I 
heard  she  died  abroad,  and  rumor  says 
the  boy  was  taught  by  Englishmen." 

"They  did  their  work  well,"  spoke  up 
Captain  Thorncliffe.  "As  I  began  to 
tell  you,  we  were  after  Soutt  close. 
One  night  a  man,  claiming  to  be  an 
escaped  English  prisoner,  joined  the 
ranks.  He  wore  a  heavy  English  beard 
and  looked  the  Englishman.  Also,  he 
gave  good  information  of  Soult  and  led 
us  until  nightfall.  At  daybreak  there 
was  a  cry  of  alarm,  a  stir  at  the  outpost. 
In  the  camp  three  sentinels  were  dying. 
75 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

A  lieutenant  who  tried  to  stop  the 
stranger  fell  wounded.  In  the  morning 
the  '  escaped  English  prisoner'  was  gone. 
So  were  the  headquarters'  papers."  The 
captain  finished  with  a  smile  and  shrug. 
Not  so  his  hearers. 

"Atrocious!  Audacious!  Horrible! 
Could  nothing  be  done?"  They  were 
the  exclamations  of  scandalized,  stay- 
at-home  Englishmen,  horrified  at  the 
insult  put  upon  their  country's  arms 
abroad. 

The  captain  listened,  then  continued, 
smiling:  "Yes,  in  the  morning  came  a 
message  under  flag  of  truce.  '  Feeling 
that  he  had  taken  advantage  of  our 
hospitality,'  Vicomte  de  St.  Croix,  the 
man  who  once  held  a  Spanish  pass  for 
half  a  day  against  a  regiment,  offered 
to  fight  any  officer  in  the  English  army 
with  sabres  for  the  amusement  of  the 
two  hosts  and  the  English  headquar- 
ters' papers  as  the  prize." 
76 


HER     DANCING-MASTER  S     TOAST 


"Did  any  one  accept?"  asked  May 
Percy,  eagerly. 

"The  general  would  not  allow  an 
officer  to  commit  suicide,"  was  the 
laconic  ending. 

"Suicide?"  questioned  Wilmerding, 
surprised. 

"  Exactly,"  answered  Thorncliffe.  "  No 
man  in  fair  fight  can  stand  against 
French  Percy." 

"Captain  Thorncliffe  seems  very 
friendly  towards  the  renegade,"  simpered 
Sir  Harvey  Johnston,  disagreeably. 

"And  sure  of  his  prowess,"  sneered 
James  Bate. 

The  captain's  reputation  for  reckless 
bravery  was  too  well  founded  to  mind  it 

"  Naturally,"  he  laughed.  "  I  was  the 
lieutenant." 

Then  Mistress  Courtleigh's  eyes  went 
very  big.  "  He  beat  you,  captain?"  she 
exclaimed. 

"Easily.  I  had  called  to  the  men 
77 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


on  outpost  not  to  shoot,  because  I 
wanted  to  take  the  daring  fellow  alive, 
myself.  'Thanks,  monsieur,'  he  cried, 
accept  your  life  and  a  small  wound  from 
me.'  Then  he  cut  me  down,  jumped  on 
my  horse,  and  rode  away  amid  a  storm 
of  bullets,  calling  back  to  us,  'Vive 
1'Empereur!'  Naturally  I  feel  in  his 
debt." 

"Audacious  scoundrel,"  roared  Sir 
Henry,  then  added,  "But  his  grandad 
old  Jack  Percy  over  again." 

"But  is  my  cousin  handsome?"  ques- 
tioned May  Percy. 

"They  say  so,  without  his  beard." 

"And  married?"  she  persisted. 

The  captain  laughed  again.  "No — 
and  he  despises  women.  They  adore 
him." 

"Well,  for  my  part,"  sneered  James 
Bate,  "I  don't  admire  renegades." 

"Nor  I  like  spies,"  simpered  Sir 
Harvey  Johnston. 

78 


HER     DANCING-MASTER  S 

Sir  John  Wilmerding  had  become  a 
bit  excited.  "Nor  I,  either,"  he  cried, 
"the  low  thief."  Then  he  added, 
viciously,  "  I'd  love  to  have  him  at  my 
sword's  point — this  French  Percy." 

At  that  Gaston  Dubarre  and  Pierre, 
seated  on  the  bench  behind  the  tree, 
looked  at  each  other.  "A  shallow 
strutter,  Pierre,"  said  the  dancing- 
master.  And  between  two  touches  on 
the  harp  -  strings  his  man  nodded  a 
smiling  "yes." 

Over  at  the  table  May  Percy  and 
Ethel  Courtleigh  were  talking  low.  "I'd 
like  to  meet  my  cousin,"  said  Mistress 
Percy. 

Captain  Thorncliffe,  still  chuckling  to 
himself  over  Sir  John  Wilmerding's  last 
speech,  heard  her. 

"  You  may  yet,  young  lady,"  he  cried. 

"Tis  said  to  be  French  Percy's  boast 

that  some  day  he  will  come  to  England 

and  stop  at  his  mother's  home.     They 

79 


K 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

say   he   promised   her  to   do   it."     Sir 
Henry  Percy  rose  quickly  then. 

"Tush,  tush!"  he  exclaimed,  irritably. 
"  Enough  of  this.  We  should  be  merry, 
not  discuss  French  dogs,  for  to  me  this 
is  an  especial  time  for  joy." 

"To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,"  cried 
Thorncliffe,  eager  to  make  amends,  "for 
isn't  it  the  seventeenth  birthday  of  one 
of  the  fairest  maids  in  all  England?" 

"Right,  captain,  but  my  joy  goes 
deeper.  This  is  not  only  my  daughter's 
birthday,  but  to-day  sees  my  fondest 
hopes  well  on  the  road  to  be  realized." 

Sir  John  Wilmerding  glanced  at  May 
Percy,  then  smiled  a  quick  smile  of 
joyful  anticipation.  At  her  father's 
words  the  girl's  eyes  flashed  fierce  re- 
bellion, then,  as  she  looked  at  him 
standing  there  so  happy,  became  as 
quick  miserably  resigned.  With  mas- 
todonic  playfulness,  Sir  Henry  con- 
tinued : 

80 


HER     DANCING-MASTER  S     TOAST 


"It's  a  pretty  secret,  and  it  is  my 
pleasure,  friends  and  neighbors,  to  tell 
you  of  it,  but  can  you  guess  this  little 
romance?"  He  paused. 

About  the  table  were  sly  winks,  and 
laughs  and  gestures  towards  Mistress 
Percy  and  Sir  John.  A  dozen  feet  away, 
and  partly  screened  behind  a  tree,  a 
man  stood  at  strained  attention,  watch- 
ing a  girl's  face  and  listening  for  every 
word. 

Again  Sir  Henry  took  up  his  speech. 
"It  all  goes  back  to  the  time  when  Sir 
Elmer  Wilmerding  and  I  were  young 
men,  friends,  closer  than  brothers.  And 
in  those  days  we  planned  a  romance. 
He  had  a  son,  young  John  Wilmerding, 
and  I  a  daughter." 

Now  at  the  tree  Pierre  stopped  play- 
ing and  rose  quickly  to  lay  a  sym- 
pathetic hand  upon  his  comrade's 
shoulder.  That  comrade  paid  no  at- 
tention— only,  with  his  eyes  he  sought 

6  8l 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


that  other  pair  of  eyes,  equally  miser- 
able, and  watched,  answering  line  for 
line  every  mark  of  pain  on  a  girl's  white 
face.  And  the  gay  tittering  about  the 
table  was  the  laughing  accompaniment 
for  breaking  hearts.  The  squire  was 
now  in  a  hurry  to  finish. 

"We  fixed  our  hopes  on  these  chil- 
dren. I  have  watched  John  Wilmer- 
ding  grow,  and,  whether  a  playing  boy, 
a  youth,  or  a  man,  he  has  held  my 
respect,  and  to-day  I  am  very  happy." 

There  was  deep  silence  among  the 
guests,  the  silence  of  stilled  expectation. 
Beside  the  tree  Dubarre  bent  forward, 
eager,  intent,  fearful,  a  prisoner  await- 
ing the  certain  death  sentence. 

"It  is  with  great  joy" — Sir  Henry 
spoke  now  very  slowly — "that  I  an- 
nounce the  betrothal  of  my  daughter, 
Mistress  May  Percy,  to  Sir  John  Wil- 
merding. ' ' 

He  stopped,  beaming  over  all.  Now 
82 


HER     DANCING-MASTERS 


rang  out  the  "bravos"  and  the  lively 
buzz  of  congratulation.  Over  by  the 
big  tree  a  man  turned  bitterly  aside. 
"Mon  Dieu!  and  they  call  that  a  ro- 
mance!" he  said.  The  prisoner  had 
gotten  his  sentence. 

At  the  table,  her  strained  smile  mak- 
ing mock  of  her  own  miserable  eyes,  a 
girl  sat  waiting  for  the  hum  of  congrat- 
ulation to  simmer  down.  Sir  Henry 
raised  his  glass. 

"And  now  to  the  health  of  these 
young  doves.  Their  health,  friends, 
their  health!"  he  cried.  It  was  drunk 
standing,  and  when  they  sat  down  Cap- 
tain Thorncliffe  remained  on  his  feet  for 
a  speech. 

"I  believe  with  the  Scriptures,"  began 
the  captain,  "that  he  who  captureth  a 
woman's  heart  is  greater  than  he  that 
taketh  a  city." 

"Did  Lord  Byron  or  Sir  Walter  Scott 
write  your  Bible,  captain?"  asked  Mis- 
83 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


tress  Stanfield.  But  the  soldier  was  im- 
pervious to  assault. 

"And  I  will  add,"  he  continued,  with 
a  meaning  glance  at  Ethel  Courtleigh, 
"great  is  the  woman  who  will  allow  her 
heart  to  be  captured.  And  so — and  so — 
I  will  drink  a  health  to  those  who  have 
so  closely  followed  the  Scriptures,  and 
may  they  always  show  their  wisdom 
and — and — er — magnanimity,  as  they 
have  done  on  this  occasion." 

The  captain  gave  place  to  James  Bate 
amid  cheers  and  laughter. 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  ought  to  say  some- 
thing," he  began.  "I  know  I  ought — I 
ought,  but  I  cannot  think  of  it.  We 
should  all  be  glad,  I  dare  say — don't  you 
think  we  should  all — that  is,  you  and  I 
— all  of  us — " 

"A  handsome  pair,  eh,  James?"  sug- 
gested Sir  Henry. 

"Yes,  I  don't  know — oh  yes,  of  course 
— that  is,  not — "  He  cleared  his  throat, 
84 


HER     DANCING-MASTERS     TOAST 

then  paused  for  a  moment,  silent, 
awkward.  "It's  embarrassing  as  the 
dev— " 

The  captain  coughed  violently.  James 
Bate  stood,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 
The  others  laughed. 

Suddenly  from  behind  the  tree  at  the 
left  appeared  Dubarre.  In  five  quick 
strides  he  had  reached  the  far  end  of  the 
table.  His  head  was  high,  his  body 
erect.  It  was  not  the  dancing-master, 
but  a  suffering-made  gentleman  among 
his  peers,  who  came  magnanimously  to 
add  his  congratulations  to  the  rest.  By 
comparison  the  exquisite  opposite  was 
more  awkward,  more  silly  than  ever. 
The  guests  looked  up  astounded. 

"Pardon,  monsieur,"  and  with  the  air 
of  a  French  gentleman  Dubarre  reached 
over  and  took  Sir  John  Wilmerding's 
wineglass,  Then  he  stepped  back  so  as 
to  face  May  Percy  and  the  rest. 

"  May  a  poor  Frenchman,  an  intruder, 

85 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

add  his  humble  toast  to  mademoiselle?" 

he  asked. 

Sir  Henry  half  rose,  but  the  girl  bowed 

without  speaking,  and  he  subsided. 

Next,  as  silent,  breathless  at  his  au- 
dacity,   they    watched    him,    Dubarre 

raised  his  glass: 

"To  the  Lady  of  Moods, 

"To  the  Countess  of  Grace, 

"To  the  Duchess  of  Gayety, 

"To  the  Queen  of  Courtesy, 

"To  the  Empress  of  Hearts, 

"To  the  Goddess  of  Love, 

"To  her  whose  beauty  now  like   a 

mountain    torrent    from    above    rushes 

o'er; 

"Next,  as  the  thoughtful  pool  at  the 

heart  of  nature,  woos  one; 

"  Whose  courtesy  is  the  constant  sweet 

picturing  of  her  heart's  innocence; 
"The  purity  of  whose  soul,  shining 

from  midnight  eyes,  would  shame  the 

whitest  moonlight; 


HER     DANCING-MASTER  S     TOAST 

"Whose  Alpine  courage  and  goodness 
tower  above  the  clouds  of  men's  under- 
standing; 

"Whose  wit,  as  sun's  rays  flashing  on 
those  snow  -  clad  heights,  dazzles  but 
does  not  wound ; 

"  Whose  moods  are  as  the  snow-flakes, 
infinite,  yet  each  its  very  own; 

"Whose  love,  as  that  snow,  pure  and 
undefiled,  rests  high,  secure  on  the 
mountain  of  her  trust; 

"Whose  whole  self  is  God's  expres- 
sion of  perfect  joy  to  man. 

"To  her,  then,  whom,  seeing,  man 
must  say,  '  I  have  followed  marsh-lights, 
but  now  the  evening  star;  henceforth  I 
follow  no  more  marsh-lights.'" 

He  paused  a  moment,  then  added, 
with  deepest,  loving  reverence: 

"To  Mistress  Percy,  God  bless  her!" 

He  drank,  and,  as  in  the  Queen's 
toast,  snapped  off  the  stem  of  his  glass. 
Then  he  stood  looking  down  silently  at 
87 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


the  pieces  in  his  hand.  And  in  his  face 
could  be  read  plainly  what  the  broken 
glass  meant  to  him.  . 

With  an  under  -  muttered  oath,  Sir 
John  started  up  from  his  seat.  Mistress 
Percy  laid  a  restraining  hand  on  his  arm, 
and  he  sat  down  again.  At  the  foot  of 
the  table  Sir  Henry  Percy  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

"Have  done!  have  done!"  the  squire 
cried.  "  Tis  time  for  the  dance.  Come, 
all  of  you,  and"  —  he  added  it  with  a 
sneer  —  "show  your  teaching." 

Scrambling  up  in  confusion,  the  party 
started  for  the  house.  But  on  the  way 
Elizabeth  Hampton  found  time  to  whis- 
per to  Dorothy  Stanfield,  "If  he  were  a 
gentleman,  Dorothy,  Sir  John  would  not 
be  betrothed." 

May  Percy  started  with  the  rest,  but 

in  a  moment  returned  to  get  her  for- 

gotten glove.     She  came  back  into  the 

cloud  -  world  of  romance.     Pierre  was 

88 


HER   DANCING-MASTER'S    TOAST 

playing  softly  on  his  harp,  a  dreary, 
mournful  melody,  the  farewell.  With 
his  eyes  bent  down,  Dubarre  still  stood 
beside  the  table.  And  as  she  watched 
him  he  raised  his  head,  sighed,  and  the 
pieces  of  the  broken  wineglass  fell  at  his 
feet. 

"Monsieur  Dubarre" — he  started  and 
whirled  to  her — "  have  you — have  you" 
— she  stammered  painfully — "have  you 
seen  my  glove?  I  dropped  one  some- 
where." 

In  a  flash  Dubarre  had  spied  it  under 
her  seat  at  the  table. 

"Ah,  monsieur,  you  have  it.  Thank 
you." 

He  held  the  glove  towards  her  silently. 
She  started  to  take  it,  and  he  drew  back 
his  hand  a  little. 

"Mademoiselle,  can  you?  May  I? 
Is  there  not  some  little  ray,  one  token 
just  for  the  helpless  one,  the  hopeless 
he  outcast?" 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


She  looked  at  him,  half  frightened,  all 
sorrowful.  "Yes,"  she  said,  speaking 
slowly,  and  started  away,  looking  back. 
"Yes,"  she  repeated,  and  again,  "Y-e-s." 

He  watched  her  until  she  was  gone 
from  sight.  Then  he  raised  the  glove 
to  his  lips  and  kissed  it  passionately,  re- 
peatedly. 

The  farewell  was  ended. 

Pierre  coughed  and  came  from  behind 
the  tree.  Dubarre  hastily  hid  the  glove 
in  his  breast,  then  turned  that  way. 

"Pierre,  we  leave  for  France  in  the 
morning." 


VI 


THE    ST.    CROIX    SIGNET 

THREE  men  sat  in  the  dancing-mas- 
ter's room.  Within  a  minute  after 
entering  Fourney  had  seen  all  the 
room  offered.  With  quick,  accustomed 
glances  he  noted  that  the  door  through 
which  he  came  afforded  the  only  normal 
exit.  The  one  just  opposite  in  the  other 
wall  opened  only  into  a  closet.  Beside 
it  he  saw  that  the  big  eight-day  clock, 
which  reached  from  the  floor  almost  to 
the  door-top,  showed  just  the  hour  of 
six.  On  the  right  wall  as  he  entered  he 
swept  over  the  only  window,  on  one  side 
of  the  handsome  oak  mantel,  and  the 
tester  bed  on  the  other.  He  could 
have  told  the  wood  of  the  table  placed 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

near  the  clock,  and  the  design  of  the 
three  chairs,  or  how  one  brass  andiron 
in  the  fireplace  had  been  polished  more 
than  the  other.  It  was  a  quick  eye  had 
this  strange  wanderer,  chased  from 
France  by  "ze  leetle  Corsican." 

Now  Fourney  had  been  in  the  room 
two  hours,  and  he  was  heartily  tired  of 
it.  His  cousin  Jean  snored  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  fireplace.  Pierre,  brushing 
busily  away  at  Dubarre's  clothes,  was 
no  great  company.  Fourney  had  begun 
to  grow  sleepy.  He  leaned  back  in 
his  chair,  yawned,  and  looked  at  the 
clock. 

"So  slow  ze  time  pass  in  ze  countree ?" 
It  was  more  a  question  than  anything 
else.  Pierre,  still  busy  with  the  brush, 
replied  in  kind. 

"You  are  from  ze  city — from  Paris?" 

"Non,  Normandie." 

"Parlez-vous  franpais?"  asked  Pierre, 
abruptly.  The  suddenness  of  such  a 
92 


THE     ST.      CROIX     SIGNET 


foolish  question  apparently  confused 
Fourney. 

"Non,  non,"  he  said — "that  is,  not 
parley  well." 

The  other's  lifted  eyebrows  and  won- 
dering shrug  were  marvels  of  their  kind. 

"A  Frenchman  not  parley  Francais!" 
he  said. 

"  Me  half  French,"  explained  Fourney. 

"Ma  foi!"  and  the  way  of  saying  it 
made  the  half- Frenchman  squirm. 

"Other  half  Anglais,"  he  continued, 
eager  to  explain. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  muttered  Pierre. 

' '  An'  you  ? ' '  asked  Fourney.  The  ser- 
vant brushing  clothes  looked  at  him 
with  wide,  honest-seeming  eyes. 

"We  from  la  belle  France,  chased  by 
ze  leetle  corporal.  He  hate  us;  we  seek 
comrades — les  bons  comrades,  who  came 
before.  We  fin'  them,  then  we  be  so 
happy." 

It  was  Fourney 's  story  told  over 
93 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

again.  The  man  who  had  told  it  first 
smiled.  He  saw  the  irony,  but  he  was 
equal  to  the  occasion. 

"We  two — you  two — alike,"  he  cried, 
with  enthusiasm.  "Let  us  be  four,  all 
in  one."  Pierre  stopped  brushing  Du- 
barre's  coat,  and  appeared  to  be  weigh- 
ing the  proposition  seriously. 

"That's  nize,"  he  murmured;  then, 
hesitatingly,  "If  you  could  jes  parley 
Frangais!" 

Fourney  rushed  to  vindicate  himself 
fully  now.  "Father  French.  Come  to 
teach  ze  music  and  ze  fencing  to  Anglais. 
He  marry,  live  in  England  till  he  die. 
Then  me  take  up  classes.  Two  years 
ago  I  get  letter  from  my  cousin,  Jean 
Fourney,  in  France.  He  lose  his  speech. 
I  go  over  to  help  him.  We  live  on  lee- 
tie  farm  in  Normandie." 

"Ah!"  interrupted  his  listener,  as 
though  greatly  relieved. 

Jacques  Fourney  continued:  "People 
94 


THE     ST.     CROIX     SIGNET 

run  us  away.  Say  I  Anglais;  Anglais 
say  I  French.  We  be  French  refugees 
to  Anglais;  Englishmen  to  French — 
Voila!"  He  ended  with  a  shrug. 

Big  Pierre  scratched  his  head  in  most 
contented  style,  all  the  while  nodding 
approval  and  saying  over  and  over 
again,  "Ah!  Oui,  oui!"  Then  he  went 
back  to  his  clothes-brushing. 

Fourney  asked  the  next  question. 
"  You  been  long  run  away  from  France  ?" 

Immediately  the  harpist  became  too 
excited  to  talk  straight  English. 

"Long?"  he  cried.  "Ah,  ma  foil 
Much  longer  'an  if  we  had  not  been  away 
so  long." 

' '  You  mean  you  been  a  long  time  here  ? ' ' 
questioned  the  disgusted  Fourney. 

Pierre  looked  at  him  with  admiration. 
"Ah,  you  see,  I  Frenchman.  How  nize 
to  talk  two  —  Anglais,  French  —  both 
well."  The  combination  of  apology  and 
admiration  in  his  tone  was  wonderful. 

95 


<•- 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

After  that  there  was  silence  for  a  time. 
The  harpist  lifted  the  dancing-master's 
coat  and  began  to  shake  it.  As  he  did 
so  a  heavy  ring  dropped  out  upon  the 
floor.  With  a  quick  "Mon  Dieu!"  mut- 
tered under  his  breath,  Pierre  began  to 
search  about  for  the  ring.  He  brought 
a  candle  from  the  high  mantel  to  help 
him.  Fourney  sat  back  in  his  chair  and 
looked  on  with  indifference.  His  com- 
panion Jean  had  waked  up  very  sudden- 
ly. Now  and  then,  when  Pierre's  back 
was  turned,  the  pair  would  look  quickly 
at  each  other.  Pierre  was  too  interested 
in  his  search  to  notice. 

"Why,  there  it  is,  by  ze  leg  o'  ze 
table,"  cried  Fourney,  at  last,  from  his 
chair.  He  had  seen  the  light  gleam  on 
the  gold.  Pierre  snatched  up  the  ring 
joyfully. 

"Mon  Dieu!  me  glad!"  he  cried,  as 
though  immensely  relieved;  then  added, 
in  explanatory  tone,  "A  present  from 
96 


THE     ST.     CROIX     SIGNET 


the  Anglaise  mademoiselle  he  teach  the 
minuet.  He  would  no  lose  it.  I  put 
it  away,"  and  he  slipped  the  ring  back 
in  the  waistcoat-pocket  from  which  it 
had  fallen.  Then  he  went  over,  open- 
ed the  closet  door,  and  hung  the  waist- 
coat inside. 

"Ma  foil     If  I  lose  it  he  break  my 
back." 

"  He  like  mademoiselle?" 

"He  teach  her,"  replied  Pierre,  dip- 
lomatically. 

"Mademoiselle  —  great  lady,"  vent- 
ured Fourney. 

"She — a  Percy,"  answered  Dubarre's 
man,  proudly. 

"Far   above    poor   French   dancing- 
master." 

"  Or  French  music-teacher,"  was  the  ^L 
quick  reply. 

"French    blood    good    ees    blood    of      /a 
Anglais,"  said  Jacques. 

"Diable!    Yes." 
7  97 


THE     CAvSTLE     COMEDY 

"There  be  a  French  Percy — I  hear  of 
him." 

Pierre's  face  became  puzzled. 

"A  French  Percy?"  he  questioned. 

"Yes,  Jean  see  him  once.  He  come 
with  soldiers.  He  ver'  brave." 

Pierre  put  his  hand  to  his  ear  and 
stood  listening  intently. 

"Oui,  oui,  monsieur,  I  come!"  he 
cried;  then,  snatching  up  a  coat  from 
among  those  lying  on  the  table,  which 
happened  to  be  a  coat  of  Fourney's,  he 
rushed  out  through  the  door,  slipping 
on  the  garment  as  he  ran.  The  two 
men  left  in  the  room  looked  after  him  in 
mute  surprise.  Then  they  looked  at 
each  other. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  exclaimed 
the  dumb  Jean  Fourney. 

Jacques  Fourney  turned  quickly  to 
the  supposed  dumb  man.  "Are  you 
sure,  Jean — sure?" 

"Yes,  sure,"  cried  the  assistant, 
98 


THE     ST.     CROIX     SIGNET 

eagerly.  "The  smaller  one,  he  is  Percy 
Latapie.  I  saw  him  in  France,  when  he 
was  awarded  the  cross  of  the  Legion  for 
stealing  the  English  plans." 

"Then  the  five  hundred  guineas  re- 
ward and  the  hundred  pounds  offered  by 
Wellington  are  ours,"  exclaimed  Fourney. 

"Not  till  we  get  the  soldiers  and  have 
him  arrested,"  answered  his  practical 
assistant. 

"We'll  go  now,"  declared  Fourney. 
"My  'French'  won't  stand  the  strain 
longer." 

"Our  going  might  make  him  sus- 
picious," objected  Jean. 

"  Pshaw!  by  starting  now  we  can  have 
the  soldiers  here  before  noon  to-morrow. 
He  can't  get  far  by  then.  Let  us  leave 
through  the  window  before  that  man 
Pierre  gets  back.  If  he  suspected,  the 
fighter  Percy  would  kill  us  both." 

Quickly  they  prepared  to  go.  Pierre 
had  taken  Jacques  Fourney's  coat,  so 
99 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


the  spy  appropriated  one  belonging  to 
Dubarre. 

As  they  were  leaving,  Jean  paused. 
"That  ring,"  he  said,  and  got  it  from 
the  waistcoat  hanging  in  the  closet. 
Fourney  looked  at  it. 

' '  That 's  proof  enough , "  he  cried — ' '  the 
St.  Croix  seal!"  And  putting  the  ring 
in  his  pocket,  Fourney  led  the  way  out 
through  the  window. 

Pierre  had  some  difficulty  in  finding 
the  dancing  -  master.  He  ran  all  the 
way  to  the  garden,  then  was  compelled 
to  wait,  for  Dubarre  stood  talking  to 
Captain  Thorncliffe  and  could  not  be 
disturbed.  At  last  the  harpist,  nearly 
consumed  now  in  the  fever  of  his  own 
impatience,  got  his  chance  to  tell  of 
the  strange  Frenchmen  he  had  left  in 
the  room. 

"And  he  could  not  speak  French?" 
said  Dubarre,  in  surprise. 


THE     ST.     CROIX     SIGNET 

"Only    English,    monsieur," 
Pierre,  positively. 

"Come,  I'll  sample  it.  Mayhap  he'll 
wish  both  were  deaf  and  dumb." 

They  hurried  to  the  lodge  and  threw 
open  the  door.  A  gust  of  air  from  the 
open  window  met  them,  and  the  flicker- 
ing candle  showed  the  room  to  be  empty. 

"Why,  Pierre,  what  have  you  done 
with  the  guests?" 

The  dancing-master  asked  the  ques 
tion,  stopping  to  laugh  at  his  assistant. 
Pierre  was  running  about  the  room  like 
a  dog  that  had  lost  a  trail.  He  rushed 
to  the  closet  and  looked  under  the  bed, 
but  no  Jacques  Fourney,  no  dumb  Jean 
appeared.  Then  the  man  stood  gazing 
at  Dubarre  in  mute  perplexity. 

"They  seem  to  have  gone,  Pierre. 
How  was  it?" 

The  other  could  only  look  at  the 
window  and  mutter: 

"It  was  closed  when  I  left." 
101 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"Ah!" 

Dubarre  stepped  quickly  to  the  win- 
dow and  held  a  candle  outside.  There 
were  footprints  on  the  grass.  He  put 
the  candle  back  on  the  mantel,  fastened 
the  shutters,  and  closed  the  window. 
Then  he  looked  at  Pierre,  and  Pierre 
looked  at  him. 

"They've  gone,"  said  Dubarre,  after 
a  moment  of  staring.  "Certainly  our 
fellow-countrymen  act  queerly.  One 
cannot  talk  French,  the  other  cannot 
talk  at  all;  and  now  they  leave  us  sud- 
denly through  a  window." 

"Well,  one  of  them  left  a  coat,"  re- 
marked Pierre,  after  the  manner  of  a 
man  seeking  small  comfort. 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Because  I  have  it  on  now,  myself, 
and  a  tight  fit  it  is.  I  took  it  to  keep 
him  from  running  away  while  I  went 
for  you." 

"What  did  he  wear?" 


THE     ST.      CROIX     SIGNET 

Pierre  looked  all  about  the  room  and 
in  the  closet. 

"Mon  Dieu!  He  took  yours,  mon- 
sieur," he  said,  at  last,  with  a  wry 
grimace. 

"  My  coat  gone  ?  My  waistcoat,  then," 
asked  Dubarre,  sharply. 

Pierre  brought  it  out.  Dubarre  felt 
in  the  pockets  quickly. 

"My  signet-ring  gone,  too,"  he  cried, 
"and  that's  worse.  At  home  it's  a 
family  treasure,  here  a  family  peril." 

"How,  monsieur?" 

"Why,  it  points  out  the  man  on  whom 
it  is  found  as  one  England  is  hunting." 

"I'll  get  it,  monsieur,"  and  Pierre 
started  for  the  door. 

"Come  back!"  cried  Dubarre;  "to 
claim  it  would  bring  disaster  on  both 
of  us.  Let's  see  the  coat  he  left." 

Pierre    took    off    the    garment    and 
handed  it  to  him.     The  dancing-master 
looked  it  over,  then  tried  it  on. 
103 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


"I'll  travel  in  it,  since  he  got  mine. 
What  do  you  think?"  He  pulled  at 
the  coat  to  make  it  fit  better.  '  'Tis 
lucky  we  are  of  a  size,  this  strange 
Frenchman  and  I."  Then  he  felt  a 
small,  hard  substance.  "Oho,  a  snuff- 
box!" he  cried,  pulling  it  from  his 
pocket.  "I'll  test  the  brand  monsieur 
the  thief  uses." 

He  opened  the  box,  but  it  contained 
only  a  thin  paper  doubled  and  rolled 
into  as  small  compass  as  possible. 
Dubarre  straightened  it  out.  As  he 
looked  at  the  paper  his  face  changed 
suddenly. 

"French  refugees,  Pierre!  French 
renegades,  rather!  Low-born  English 
spies,  this  Fourney  and  his  man  Jean. 
See!  Look  at  this!"  He  held  the 
paper  towards  the  other  in  great  excite- 
ment. "  Indeed,  we  leave  in  good  time." 

"Spies!     Low  English  thieves!"  cried 
Pierre,  in  turn,  looking  at  the  paper. 
104 


THE     ST.     CROIX     SIGNET 


"Come,  come,  Pierre!"  exclaimed 
Dubarre,  "you  must  away,  and  at  once. 
I'll  stay  until  to-morrow  to  put  out  a 
false  trail.  Here!"  He  ran  to  the  bed, 
and  from  a  cunningly  constructed  hid- 
ing-place drew  out  a  bag  of  money. 
"Take  this.  Get  your  horse  where  we 
left  it,  at  the  second  farm.  Ride  like 
mad  to  the  cove.  It's  barely  twenty- 
five  miles.  Have  the  boat  lie  off  every 
night  for  a  week,  in  case  I  am  delayed. 
Three  lights,  triangle,  in  the  rigging  will 
be  the  sign.  Are  you  ready?" 

While  he  was  talking,  Pierre,  with 
soldier-like  alacrity,  had  been  at  work. 
Now  he  stood  holding  a  small  bundle 
of  clothes  that  looked  suspiciously  like 
a  mere  excuse  for  hidden  pistols. 

"Monsieur,  may  not  the  spies  come 
back  for  you?" 

"No,  no,  Pierre,  I'll  risk  it.     I'll  put 
out    false    reports    to    confuse    Percys, 
spies,  English — all." 
105 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

Some  one  knocked  lightly  at  the  door. 
Dubarre  half  drew  a  small  clasp-knife, 
then,  remembering  himself,  went  calmly 
to  answer  the  knock. 

"Bon  voyage,  Pierre,"  he  whispered, 
his  hand  on  the  latch.  Then  he  opened 
the  door. 

A  girl  muffled  in  a  cape,  with  the  hood 
drawn  over  her  face,  slipped  quickly  into 
the  room.  Astonished,  Pierre  started 
back.  Dubarre  put  his  finger  to  his  lips. 

"Until  to-morrow  night,"  he  muttered 
to  Pierre,  and,  bowing,  the  man  slipped 
from  the  room. 

Dubarre  closed  the  door  after  him  and 
turned  to  face  his  visitor. 


VII 


"FIN 
LJ  r 


SUPPOSE 

NTIL  to-morrow  night?"  The  girl 
epeated  it  as  a  question.  Then, 
with  a  quick  flirt,  she  threw  the  shroud- 
ing hood  aside,  and  May  Percy  stood  be- 
fore him. 

A  drizzling  rain  was  falling  without, 
and  somehow  a  dozen  drops  or  so  had 
stolen  under  her  hood  to  sparkle  amid 
the  black  hair  like  diamonds.  Her 
cheeks  were  red  from  hurrying.  Her 
eyes,  big,  eager,  questioning,  sought 
his. 

Dubarre  drew  a  long  breath.  "  Yes," 
he  said. 

May  Percy  gave  a  quick,  relieved 
laugh.  "Why,  I  need  not  have  hurried 
107 


THE     CASTLE      COMEDY 

so.  You  did  not  speak  to  me,  so  I  came 
to  tell  you  good-bye." 

She  extended  her  hand.  After  a 
scant  moment  he  dropped  it,  as  some- 
thing not  to  be  safely  held. 

"  Mademoiselle  knew  I  was  going?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,  Captain  Thorncliffe  told  me." 

Dubarre  frowned.  "The  captain!  I 
asked  him  not  to  tell." 

"  So  he  said.  You  were  to  leave  early 
in  the  morning — and  what  a  shame  it 
was  none  of  us  would  get  to  tell  you 
good-bye  after  you  had  been  so  kind. 
He  was  coming  to-night,  he  thought, 
and  I  decided  I  would,  too,  because  I 
was  afraid  I  might  not  wake  up  in  time 
and  you  would  be  gone." 

She  had  rushed  through  it  all  in  a 
breath,  for  Dubarre  was  still  frown- 
ing. Now  he  bowed  to  her  ceremo- 
niously. 

"Mademoiselle  is  very  kind,  but  also 
108 


SUPPOSE 


very    imprudent.       Did    mademoiselle 
bring  her  maid  along?" 

At  that  Mistress  Percy's  face  showed 
only  startled,  innocent  surprise. 

"  No,  why  should  I  ?  I  was  not  afraid. 
Besides — "  She  hesitated. 

"Besides?"  he  asked. 

"  I  did  not  want  them  to  know,"  she 
blurted  out,  impulsively. 

"Want  whom  to  know?" 

"My  father  and  Sir  John." 

"Sir  John  is  mademoiselle's  affianced 
husband,"  suggested  the  dancing-mas- 
ter, with  just  a  shade  of  reproof  in  his 
speech. 

Blazing  with  sudden,  splendid  anger, 
Mistress  Percy  turned  on  him.  "That 
does  not  entitle  him  to  hold  authority 
over  me.  I  am  not  yet  cramped  within 
a  wedding-ring,  thank  Heaven." 

"Mademoiselle!"  His  tone  was  wholly 
reproving  now,  but  that  served  only  to 
enrage  her  the  more. 
109 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


"Oh,  you  needn't  take  his  part.  I 
believe  all  you  men  are  alike.  I  hate 
you  all.  I'm  sure  I  do."  And,  whirl- 
ing away  from  him,  she  stood  drum- 
ming her  fingers  on  the  table.  Dubarre 
shook  his  head  despairingly.  When  he 
spoke  it  was  in  a  suave,  soothing 
tone. 

"  Mademoiselle  is  excited.  May  I  get 
a  glass  of  water  for  mademoiselle?" 

May  Percy  turned  back  impatiently. 
"Now,  don't  take  that  tone.  You'll  be 
like  my  father  next.  I  say  some  one  has 
been  kind  to  me,  and  I  will  see  him  to 
say  good-bye,  and  thank  him.  And 
then,  forsooth,  Sir  John" — she  paused, 
then  went  on  with  sneering  contempt — 
"the  righteous,  proper  Sir  John,  who  has 
lost  half  a  fortune  at  cards  and  fought 
once  about  a  girl,  must  throw  up  his 
hands  in  holy  horror,  and  my  father 
grow  sarcastic  and  suggest  that  I  go 
)ver  to-night  to  pay  a  formal  visit  to  ex- 
no 


SUPPOSE 

press  my  thanks  in  person  for  a  paid 
service.  Oh,  I  despise  you  men!" 

She  was  miserably  angry,  but  of  a  sud- 
den her  old  April  self  predominated. 
An  arch  smile  broke  through  the  clouds 
on  her  face,  and  a  gay  laugh  at  some 
new  thought  swept  away  all  trace  of 
gloom. 

"Do  you  really  suppose,  monsieur, 
my  father  meant  that  seriously  ?  Am  I 
not  a  dutiful  daughter?"  She  stopped, 
struggling  to  contain  her  laughter. 

At  the  angry  outburst,  Dubarre  had 
started  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 
This  last  change  was  too  much  for  a 
man  helplessly,  hopelessly  in  love. 
There  was  but  one  salvation.  He 
stopped  and  bowed  stiffly. 

"I  know  one  thing,  which  is,  made- 
moiselle must  be  going." 

It  was  a  command. 

Mistress  Percy  drew  herself  up  proud- 
ly. "And  you,  too,  Monsieur  Propriety 
in 


:(•- 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

— forgive  me.  I  had  not  properly  esti- 
mated the  dancing-master.  He  fairly 
bristles  with  unexpectedness.  Possi- 
bly"— with  the  dainty,  sarcastic  smile 
that  only  made  her  face  the  more  ador- 
able— "monsieur  has  lost  a  whole  fort- 
une at  cards  and  fought  two  duels  over 
two  girls." 

Plagued,  tempted  past  all  endurance, 
the  Frenchman  lost  his  head.  "A 
dozen  would  be  nearer,"  he  blurted,  in 
sudden  anger. 

For  a  moment  May  Percy  looked  at 
him  helplessly.  Then  the  meaning  of 
it  all  swept  over  her.  She  drew  a  long 
breath,  while  her  eyes  grew  big  and 
anxious. 

"Then  monsieur  is — " 

He  interrupted  quickly.  "  Gaston  Du- 
barre,  poor  French  dancing  -  master." 
Next  he  drew  back,  and,  with  a  low  bow, 
added,  "To  Mistress  Percy,  grand  lady." 

Slowly  the  eagerness  faded  out  of  the 

112 


SUPPOSE 


girl's  face.  Her  head  drooped  as  she 
held  out  her  hand  kindly. 

"Forgive  me,  monsieur.  I  did  not 
mean  to  intrude  upon  a  possible  secret." 

The  Frenchman  raised  the  hand  to  his 
lips. 

"Mademoiselle's  own  heart's  kind- 
ness makes  her  forgiveness,"  he  said, 
brokenly. 

"And  I  shall  think—" 

Dubarre  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
'  'Twere  a  foolish  man  who  would  try 
to  curb  a  woman's  thought,  mademoi- 
selle." 

She  continued:  "That  a  French  gen- 
tleman, a  soldier,  perhaps,  has  honored 
a  little  English  girl  by  teaching  her  to 
dance." 

Now  he  shook  his  head,  smiling 
slightly,  but  when  he  spoke  his  tone 
was  deeply  serious. 

"And  a  poor  French  dancing-master 
will  know  that  le  bon  Dieu  permits  some- 
s  113 


9V  i 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

times  one  of  His  own  bright  children  to 
steal  down  from  above  to  give  those 
struggling  below  jes'  one  leetle  fore- 
taste, a  promise  of  the  kingdom  of  le 
bon  Dieu.  Then  —  He  snatches  it 
away." 

With  a  shrug  the  man  walked  to  the 
mantel  and  leaned  against  it,  dejected, 
hopeless  beyond  further  speech.  The 
girl's  face  was  a  reflection  of  his  atti- 
tude. After  a  pause  she  spoke  timidly : 

"  But  the  children  from  above,  as  you 
call  them,  they  stay  on  earth,  monsieur." 

He  turned  and  came  to  her  quickly, 
sudden  resolve  in  every  movement. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  and  now  in 
turn  his  tone  was  eager,  "could  a  man 
pretend  to  be  what  he  is  not?" 

"That  would  depend,  monsieur,"  she 
interrupted,  softly. 

"  Suppose,  mademoiselle  "  —  Dubarre 
spoke  more  carefully,  weighing  every 
word — "suppose  a  man  had  sworn  an 
114 


Z*-?~---*ie;-~*£=--~-. ..  ^^S      _^s  ff 


SUPPOSE 

oath  to  her  he  loved  best  in  the  world. 
May  Percy  started.  "Suppose,  made- 
moiselle— "  He  smiled.  "  Ah,  this  is  all  a 
leetle  game  of  suppose,  that  young  man 
gets  release  from  his  chief,  forswears  his 
friends,  for  a  time  gives  up  his  life,  and, 
meanly  attired,  at  great  peril  attempts 
to  follow  out  the  oath  made  to  her  he 
loved  most  as  she  lay  dying." 

The  Frenchman  paused.  His  quick 
eye  had  noted  the  girl's  signs  of  em- 
barrassment. 

"Is  the  little  game  of  suppose  too 
long,  mademoiselle?" 

"Go  on,  monsieur."  Her  tone  was 
ample  encouragement.  He  took  up  the 
game  again  more  eagerly. 

"Suppose,  then,  mademoiselle,  he  ful- 
fils his  oath.  Could  you  " — a  moment 
he  paused  for  a  word — "respect  that 
man?" 

"Yes — yes,  monsieur,"  she  cried,  im- 
pulsively. 

"5 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


Dubarre  shook  his  head,  smiling  sadly. 

"You  speak  too  quick,  mademoiselle; 
the  game,  our  leetle  '  suppose '  game, 
is  not  finished.  Suppose,  mademoi- 
selle, that  young  man  met  danger, 
great  danger,  greater  than  he  knew. 
You  know  the  danger,  mademoiselle. 
It  is  the  light  that  le  bon  Dieu  puts  by 
life's  sea  to  save  or  wreck  men — a 
woman.  If  he  steers  headlong,  reckless, 
willing  to  die  on  the  rocks,  if  only 
struggling  for  that  light,  could  you — 
could  you  think  such  a  man  worthy?" 
He  paused  for  a  reply. 

May  Percy  stood  at  the  edge  of 
dreamland,  looking  into  the  far  away. 
At  last  she  spoke  and  it  was  very  soft. 

"You  say  the  danger  is  sent  by  God, 
monsieur?  Then  man  should  try  to 
conquer  it." 

He  stepped  towards  her,  his  arms 
outstretched  impulsively.  "  Mademoi- 
selle, you  are — " 

116 


SUPPOSE 

She  straightened  and  looked  at  him 
quickly.  He  stopped,  for  in  that  look 
there  was  some  strange  mingling  of 
weakness,  of  sad  determination  against 
desire,  and  of  appeal  that  awed  him. 
When  she  spoke,  in  so  far  as  it  could 
the  tone  echoed  the  look. 

"As  you  were  about  to  say,  the 
affianced  wife  of  Sir  John  Wilmerding, 
and  you  a  French  gentleman,  monsieur." 

He  stepped  back  and  bowed  deeply, 
then  moved  towards  the  door. 

"May  I  have  the  honor  of  seeing 
mademoiselle  safely  to  the  house?" 

And  then,  almost  as  he  said  it,  the 
door  shook  from  a  mighty  pounding. 


VIII 


u» 


WIT   AGAINST    RAPIER,    WITH    THE    CLOCK 
FOR  JUDGE 

AjAIN  the  door  rattled  and  shook 
under  the  weight  of  a  hammering 
sword-hilt.  Within  the  room  the  man 
and  girl,  struck  still,  stared  blankly  at 
each  other.  Surprise,  dark  anger,  quick, 
blushing  shame,  and,  last,  white  fear 
succeeded  in  her  face.  Her  lips 
trembled,  the  hands  clasped  and  un- 
clasped nervously.  Thrice  she  essayed 
to  speak  and  could  not;  only  the  eyes 
spoke  plainly  her  fright  and  her  appeal. 
Dubarre  recovered  first. 

"Who  is  there?"  he  shouted,  and  the 
tone  was  not  that  of  the  humble  dancing- 
master  in  the  least. 

118 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 

From  without  sounded  a  voice,  hoarse 
with  anger. 

"Open!  Open!  Tis  I.  Open  quick- 
ly!" 

"Sir  John!"  It  came  at  last,  a  low, 
faint  gasp  of  horror  from  May  Percy. 
Now  she  realized  her  false  position — 
Dubarre's  consideration  of  it.  "What 
can  I  do?"  she  begged,  low. 

Silent,  lightly  as  a  cat,  the  French- 
man sprang  to  the  door  and  noiselessly 
turned  the  key.  Another  second  and 
he  was  back  beside  her. 

"Sh!"  he  whispered.  Then  aloud: 
"And  who  may  'I'  be?  No  unknown 
I's  have  entree  here."  Again  he  whis- 
pered to  the  girl,  "Try  the  window." 
As  in  a  dream,  she  tiptoed  to  it,  but  the 
heavy  shutter  was  closed  and  barred. 

"Open!     Open  at  once,  I  say!"     Sir 
John's  voice  bore  wild  rage  now.  Every 
instant  the  door  threatened  to  give  way 
under  his  furious  assault. 
119 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

May  Percy  had  stolen  back  to  Du- 
barre. "The  shutter — I  can't  manage 
it,"  she  whispered,  faintly. 

And  now  from  beyond  the  door  an- 
other voice  broke  in  upon  them.  "  'Tis 
Sir  John  Wilmerding  and  I,  Captain 
Thorncliffe.  We  wish  to  speak  with 
you,  Monsieur  Dubarre." 

"Captain  Thorncliffe!  Oh,  I'm  lost!" 
and,  moaning  thus  piteously,  May 
Percy  seemed  about  to  faint.  Dubarre 
caught  her  almost  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"Keep  courage.  You  must  hide,"  he 
muttered.  His  touch  restored  her.  The 
Percy  pluck  began  to  assert  itself.  Her 
mouth  set,  and  she  looked  at  him  under- 
standingly.  Aloud  he  cried: 

"Pardon,  messieurs,  pardon.  I'm 
coming,"  and  he  started  noisily  for  the 
door.  The  pounding  without  ceased. 

"Well,  hurry,"  shouted  Sir  John 
Wilmerding.  "We  can't  wait  all  night." 

May  Percy  rushed  behind  the  bed. 

I2O 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 

Dubarre  darted  after  her.  "Not  here," 
he  muttered,  fiercely  —  "the  closet." 
Then  he  sprang  to  the  mantel,  knocked 
off  the  candlesticks  and  kicked  over  an 
andiron  to  make  a  big  crash. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  cried,  loudly  angry. 
"  There  goes  the  candle.  That  comes  of 
being  in  a  hurry."  Next  he  was  beside 
May  Percy,  opening  the  closet  door  and 
shouting  all  at  once. 

"Patience,  messieurs!  In  a  moment 
— when  I  get  a  light." 

Sir  John  Wilmerding  was  becoming 
wilder  every  second  of  delay. 

"We'll  make  light  enough  when  we 
get  in,"  he  roared. 

Dubarre  had  stepped  into  the  closet 
with  May  Percy.  Now  they  came  out, 
he  shaking  his  head. 

"Hopeless!" 

"Can  nothing  be  done?"  whispered 
the  girl,  in  low  tones  of  agony. 

Again  the  man  shook  his  head.     "I 

121 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


can't  kill  both."  Thus  they  stood  gaz- 
ing at  each  other,  twin  statues  of  de- 
spair. 

From  without  the  stern  voice  of  Cap- 
tain Thorncliffe  punctuated  their  leth- 
argy. 

"Open,  Dubarre,  immediately,  or 
we'll  force  a  way."  And  again  a  sword- 
hilt  began  playing  upon  the  door. 

As  at  a  death-bed  one  looks  for  the 
time,  now  Dubarre  raised  his  eyes.  His 
searching  gaze,  wandering  from  the  girl, 
found  the  face  of  the  big  clock.  Sud- 
denly his  own  face  brightened.  Aloud, 
in  laughing  tones,  almost  triumphant, 
he  cried: 

"Mon  Dieu!  Don't,  captain;  I'm 
coming." 

Seising  May  Percy  by  the  arm,  he 
hustled  her  with  desperate  speed  over 
to  the  big  clock.  The  door  of  it  came 
open  easily.  "Be  quiet  and  trust  me," 
he  whispered.  A  moment  more  and  the 

122 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 


girl  was  locked  in  behind  the  wooden 
door.  And  the  face  of  the  clock  above 
told  nothing  of  it. 

"  I'm  coming,  messieurs,  I'm  coming." 
Dubarre  was  leaping  across  the  room  for 
the  other  door.  And  as  he  sprang  by 
he  jerked  off  his  coat  and  threw  it  on 
the  table.  Quickly  he  turned  the  lock 
and  threw  open  the  door  with  a  grand 
nourish. 

"  What  has  brought  the  humble  danc- 
ing-master this  honor?"  asked  the  ob- 
sequious, bowing  Frenchman,  as  Sir 
John  Wilmerding  and  Captain  Thorn- 
cliffe  crossed  the  threshold. 

"  Are  gentlemen  to  be  kept  waiting  bj 
a  paid  jumping-jack?"  demanded  Sir 
John  Wilmerding,  striding  to  the  centre 
of  the  room. 

For  the  fifth  time  the  dancing-master 
bowed  to  his  waist. 

"  But  see,  monsieur,"  he  protested; "  I 
did  not  stop  even  to  finish  dressing." 
"3 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

Captain  Thorncliffe  turned  impatient- 
ly to  his  companion. 

"Come,  Jack.  We  are  not  here  to 
bandy  words.  State  what  you  want." 

The  Frenchman  looked  from  one  to 
the  other.  "Messieurs,  what  has  hap- 
pened? You  are  wearing  swords.  Do 
you  expect  attack.  What  can  be  the 
matter?"  In  surprise  and  sudden  anx- 
iety he  piled  questions  one  upon  an- 
other. 

"Matter  enough!"  roared  Wilmer- 
ding.  "We  are  searching  for  Mistress 
Percy." 

Dubarre  was  the  picture  of  horrified 
astonishment.  "Mon  Dieu!"  he  cried, 
"has  some  beast  stolen  her?"  He 
rushed  to  the  table  and  began  slipping 
on  his  coat.  "For  her,  I,  too,  could 
wear  a  sword."  He  ran  back  and, 
seizing  Sir  John  by  the  arm,  began  pull- 
ing him  towards  the  door,  all  the  while 
crying,  "  But,  come,  come,  monsieur, 
124 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 


we  are  losing  time — your  betrothed  may 
be—" 

Sir  John  shook  him  off  with  a  fierce 
oath,  so  that  the  smaller  Frenchman 
staggered  back  several  paces. 

"Scoundrel,  she's  here!" 

Mistress  Percy's  dancing  -  master 
straightened  himself.  A  look  of  won- 
der crept  into  his  face. 

'  "Pis  a  strange  jest,  monsieur."    The 
words  were  spoken  very  slowly. 

"By  God!  if  it  only  were  a  jest!" 
roared  Wilmerding.  "  I  tell  you,  I  saw 
her  come." 

Straightway  Dubarre  was  swept  into 
equal  rage.  With  his  hands  twitching, 
he  stepped  close  to  Wilmerding  and 
thrust  his  own  blazing  eyes  within  a  foot 
of  the  angry  lover's.  "  If  you  say  that, 
Englishman,  like  many  another  spy,  you 
He." 

Sir  John  sprang  back  and  half  drew 
his  sword.  Captain  Thorncliffe  leaped 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


beside     him    in     time    to    catch    his 
arm. 

"Steady,  Jack,  steady,"  advised  the 
Captain,  soothingly.  "I  knew  there 
must  be  some  mistake." 

The  Frenchman's  anger  had  changed 
to  cold  contempt  now. 

"And  a  mistake  monsieur  will  rue 
when  Mistress  Percy  hears  of  it,"  he 
sneered. 

Sir  John  Wilmerding  shook  off  the  re- 
straining arm  bitterly. 

"Loose  me,  Hal.  By  the  Lord!  I  tell 
you  I  saw  her  come  not  twenty  minutes 
ago.  I  watched  the  door  and  sent  for 
you  that  I  might  have  witness  when  I 
killed  the  low-born  lover." 

He  turned  again  fiercely  on  the  sneer- 
ing Frenchman. 

"Quiet,  Jack;  be  calm,"  soothed  Cap- 
tain Thorncliffe. 

Dubarre  bowed  with  most  exagger- 
joliteness. 

126 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 


"  Monsieur  greatly  honors  the  poor 
dancing-master  when  he  admits  him  as 
a  rival." 

"  And  you,  Dubarre,  besilent,"  ordered 
Thorncliffe,  sternly. 

Again  the  Frenchman  bowed  humbly. 

"The  poor  dancing-master  should  al- 
ways strive  to  please  monsieur.  And, 
of  a  truth,  if  I'm  to  die  for  it,  it  pains 
me  deeply  that,  dying,  I  cannot  at  the 
last  please  Sir  John  by  producing  the 
lady."  His  manner  expressed  only 
great  sorrow  that  his  failure  to  do  so 
should  give  the  lover  pain. 

Sir  John  shot  black  looks  all  about 
the  room. 

"  If  she's  here  we'll  find  her,"  he  de- 
clared, fiercely. 

Eagerly  Dubarre  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity for  vindication. 

"Yes,  yes.  •  Let  us  search."  As  he 
spoke  he  rushed  to  the  bed  and  laid  hold 
on  the  curtains.  Sir  John  winced  visibly 
127 


C 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

at  that.  It  did  not  escape  the  French- 
man. Still  holding  the  cloth,  he  turned, 
blandly  questioning. 

"  Pray,  where  did  the  titled  lover  ex- 
pect to  find  his  mistress?  Was  she  dis- 
cussing theology  with  the  humble  danc- 
ing-master?" Then,  without  waiting 
for  reply,  he  jerked  down  the  curtains, 
drew  them  off  the  bed,  and  began  to 
shake  them  in  violent  style. 

"Is  the  fellow  mad?  What  are  you 
doing?"  demanded  Captain  Thorncliffe. 

Dubarre  looked  up  apologetically. 
"One  never  can  tell,  monsieur.  I 
thought  perhaps  a  girl,  a  half -girl,  or 
possibly  a  girl  and  a  half  might  be  hid- 
den in  the  curtains." 

"Damnation!"  roared  Wilmerding, 
while  Thorncliffe  exclaimed,  sternly: 

"Dubarre,  enough  of  this  trifling." 

The  dancing-master  was  all  eagerness 
to  please.  "As  monsieur  le  capitaine 
wishes,"  he  said,  suavely; "  but  monsieur 
128 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 


knows  all  manner  of  queer  things  may 
happen  when  a  titled  lover  traces  his 
affianced  bride  to  the  room  of  an  abject 
dancing-master."  Then,  turning  from 
the  captain  to  Sir  John,  he  made  a 
gesture  towards  the  mattress.  "Will 
monsieur  thrust  his  sword  into  the 
bed?"  The  lover  winced  again.  "I'm 
sure,"  added  Dubarre,  with  great  ear- 
nestness, "she  must  scream  if  it  touches 
her." 

"  Cease  such  unseemly  jesting,"  shout- 
ed the  badgered  one. 

The  Frenchman  became  mildly  ag- 
grieved. "I  did  not  jest,  monsieur. 
'Twas  your  own  suggestion,"  he  said. 
"  I  wished  but  to  make  sure.  Will  mon- 
sieur lend  me  the  sword?" 

"No,"  answered  Wilmerding,  shortly. 

"Enough!"  said  Captain  Thorncliffe- 

Dubarre  drew  a  small  knife  from  his 
belt.  "  Then  by  myself  I'll  make  sure," 
he  declared,  and,  springing  suddenly  on 

9  129 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


the  bed,  thrust  the  knife  repeatedly  into 
the  mattress. 

"Is  it  enough?"  he  asked,  after  a 
dozen  thrusts,  looking  up. 

"Come  down,  Dubarre,"  ordered 
Thorncliffe,  laughing  in  spite  of  himself. 

The  Frenchman  climbed  down;  then, 
looking  at  his  work,  apostrophized  the 
bed  regretfully.  "  Poor  bed,  it  was  cruel 
treatment  after  the  many  times  you  have 
comforted  me,  but  " — shaking  his  head 
sadly — "when  ladies  of  fashion  seek  by 
night  the  rooms  of  renegade  dancing- 
masters,  then  all  things  must  be  changed 
about." 

Sir  John  had  moved  over  beside  the 
mantel.  "The  window — she  might  have 
gotten  out  by  this." 

Then  he  and  Captain  Thorncliffe 
struggled  with  the  bar.  It  took  several 
minutes  of  tussling  before  the  heavy 
shutter  moved  back.  Dubarre  laughed 
and  thanked  them  for  doing  something 
130 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 

that  he  had  been  unable  to  do  for  him- 
self. 

Now  the  searchers  stood  perplexed. 
The  simple  room  seemed  to  afford  no 
other  hiding-place.  Suddenly  Wilmer- 
ding  caught  sight  of  the  closet  door. 
He  trembled  as  nothing  since  his  .en- 
trance had  made  him  tremble.  Here 
was  the  quarry  run  to  earth  at  last. 

"The  closet!"  he  exclaimed,  and  rush- 
ed towards  it,  crying:  "Watch  the 
French  scoundrel,  Hal.  Don't  let  him 
escape." 

Dubarre's  lips  were  smiling.  About 
the  eyes  he  had  grown  ten  years.  Then 
Wilmerding  stumbled  against  the  clock. 
The  Frenchman's  smile  seemed  frozen 
on  his  face. 

"Damn  the  clock!"  cried  the  lover, 
and  reached  for  the  closet  door. 

"Poor  clock!"  murmured  the  danc- 
ing-master. And,  as  Wilmerding  paused 
before  the  door,  he  added,  "For  a  man 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


who  has  sought  so  earnestly,  Sir  John 
Wilmerding  displays  rare  diffidence  at 
meeting  his  betrothed." 

Sir  John  whirled  that  way  and  drew 
his  sword.  "Be  still,  Frenchman." 

The  other  only  continued  in  the  same 
reflective  tone.  "  If  a  titled  lover  can- 
not keep  his  betrothed  from  the  room  of 
a  poor  dancing-master  before  marriage, 
how  difficult  afterwards  it  should  be  to 
hold  the  wife  from  gentlemen  of  fashion 
and  soldiers." 

Wilmerding  still  wavered  before  the 
closed  door. 

"Hal,"  he  said,  at  last,  "I'm  not  my- 
self. I  can't  face  her.  Let  me  watch 
the  Frenchman.  You  open  the  door. 
And  as  for  you" — raising  his  sword 
above  Dubarre — "damme,  I'll — " 

.  With  a  quick  jerk  Captain  Thorncliffe 
had  pulled  open  the  closet  door.  "  It's 
empty!"  he  cried,  in  joyful  tones. 

Wilmerding's  sword  fell  to  the  floor 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 

with  a  crash.  The  lover  shook  a  mo- 
ment for  very  joy. 

"Thank  God!"  he  said,  earnestly,  at 
last. 

The  Frenchman  looked  at  both  with 
a  sneer.  "Are  you  quite  sure,  mes- 
sieurs?" he  asked. 

"  I  was  before  I  came,"declaredThorn- 
cliffe,  heartily. 

Dubarre  turned  now  on  Wilmerding. 

"  'Twas  a  brave  deed,  monsieur,  for 
the  titled  lover  with  sword  on  hip  to  in- 
sult the  poor,  unarmed  dancing-master." 

"  No  harm  was  done,"  blurted  Sir  John, 
the  more  brutally  to  cover  his  confu- 
sion. 

The  Frenchman  merely  looked  at  him. 
"Doubtless  Mistress  Percy  will  be  glad 
to  hear  that  she  was  proven  innocent," 
he  said. 

Captain  Thorncliffe  had  to  bite  his 
lips  at  that.  "Don't  push  Jack  so 
hard,  Dubarre,"  he  urged. 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

The  dancing-master  continued,  to  Sir 
John:  "But  is  monsieur  sure  —  quite 
sure — that  she  is  innocent?  One  never 
can  tell  of  women.  Is  there  not  some 
other  place  to  look?  Possibly  she  may 
have  hidden  behind  the  face  of  the  clock ! 
It  stopped  this  morning.  A  shaking-up 
may  do  it  good." 

Captain  Thorncliffe  felt  called  upon 
to  interfere.  "Enough!  enough!  Du- 
barre,"  he  begged.  "  Don't  you  see  he's 
sorry?" 

"Yes,"  said  Wilmerding,  angrily. 
"I'm  sorry — damned  sorry. "  He  thrust 
his  sword  in  its  scabbard  and  stalked 
towards  the  door. 

The  Frenchman  looked  after  the  de- 
parting lover.  "One  would  think  he 
was  sorry  he  had  not  found  her,"  said 
the  vindicated  man,  sarcastically. 

Captain  Thorncliffe  held  out  his  hand. 
"I  know  you  will  say  nothing  of  this, 
Dubarre.  I  am  grieved  mad  jealousy 


WIT     AGAINST     RAPIER 

should  have  led  Jack  to  such  folly.    You 
have  acted  splendidly  throughout." 

Dubarre  smiled  as  they  shook  hands. 
"  You  should  know,"  he  said ;  then  added : 
"  'Twas  sad.  Pierre  came  in  wearing  a 
long  cloak  'gainst  the  rain,  but  went 
away  again  without  it.  That  fooled 
him.  Good-night,  monsieur." 

Captain  Thorncliffe  followed  Sir  John 
Wilmerding  out.  Dubarre  locked  the 
door  after  them.  Next  he  straightened, 
with  a  monstrous  sigh  of  relief,  and  in 
the  candle-light  his  face  was  lined  with 
a  great  fatigue.  A  moment  he  stood 
thus,  then  stepped  quickly  across  the 
room.  He  turned  the  key  and  opened 
the  door  of  the  clock. 

"They  are  gone,  mademoiselle.  Now, 
I  shall  see  you  safely  to  the  house." 

From  her  narrow  hiding-place  the 
girl  looked  out  on  him  with  her  eyes  full 
of   a  wonderful  light   that   had   never 
showed  there  so  plainly  before. 
135 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"For  my  good  name,  what  return  can 
I  make  to  the  noblest  gentleman  I  ever 
knew?"  she  asked. 

Dubarre  bowed  low  over  her  extended 
hand. 

"None  to  the  dancing-master — just 
now,  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  with 
meaning. 

Then  Mistress  Percy  stepped  out  from 
the  clock.  And,  as  she  did  so,  the  fig- 
ures of  two  men  passed  the  window. 
Sir  John  Wilmerding  on  the  outside, 
started  forward,  but  Captain  Thorn  - 
cliffe  thrust  one  hand  over  the  lover's 
mouth  and  pushed  him  back  into  the 
shadow.  And  from  the  captain's  lips 
came  the  muttered  exclamation : 

"By  God,  she  was  in  the  clock!" 


IX 


A    WAR-OFFICE    SPECIAL 

/"CAPTAIN  THORNCLIFFE  cast  the 
V->  week-old  Gazette  aside  with  an  im- 
patient gesture. 

"Nothing  in  the  damned  paper,"  he 
muttered;  then  went  on  smoking  furi- 
ously and  thinking  just  as  hard. 

Truly  the  genial  captain  had  enough 
to  occupy  his  mind.  First,  there  was 
the  Courtleigh  girl,  who  had  been  most 
strangely  perverse  of  late,  even  for  her. 
She  always  took  a  large  share  of  the 
captain's  thoughts.  Then  loomed  up 
Wilmerding's  love  affair,  with  the  com- 
plication of  May  Percy's  visit  to  the 
dancing-master's  room  the  night  before. 

When  they  saw  her  through  the  win- 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


dow,  by  main  force  Thorncliffe  had  kept 
the  jealous  lover  from  rushing  in  to  kill 
the  Frenchman.  They  had  followed 
Dubarre  and  the  girl  from  the  lodge  to 
the  big  house  and  witnessed  the  most 
respectful  adieu.  With  great  difficulty 
the  watchers  had  crept  so  close  that  they 
could  overhear  Dubarre  thank  Mistress 
Percy  for  her  kindness  in  coming  to  tell 
him  good-bye,  and  deplore  the  necessity 
that  compelled  him  to  hide  her  in  the 
clock  to  save  appearances. 

Dubarre  had  kissed  her  hand  respect- 
fully and  gone  away.  The  girl  had 
seemed  stunned,  or  sad,  or  not  herself, 
or  something,  for  Thorncliffe  could  swear 
she  said  only:  "Adieu,  monsieur.  May 
Heaven  keep  you  safe!" 

Now  all  these  things  were  sufficient 
to  worry  the  blunt  soldier.  He  had  de- 
clared earnestly  to  Wilmerding  that  he 
believed  the  visit  innocent,  and  had  in- 
duced the  jealous  lover  to  promise  to 
138 


A     WAR-OFFICE     SPECIAL 

wait  until  Dubarre  had  gone,  then  get  a 
quiet  explanation  from  Mistress  Percy. 
Whether  or  not  the  hot-tempered  Sir 
John  could  keep  his  head  and  his  prom- 
ise was  an  open  question.  The  captain 
had  come  out  to  his  favorite  bench  on 
the  lawn,  the  one  at  which  Pierre  had 
played  for  the  feast,  to  consider  the 
matter. 

But  thinking  did  no  good,  and  impa- 
tiently he  turned  back  to  the  discarded 
Gazette.  He  picked  it  up  again,  and  al- 
most as  he  did  so  his  glance  caught  an 
item  that  made  him  start.  He  took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth  to  whistle,  then  laid 
it  on  the  bench  while  he  read  the  item 
through,  his  eyes  all  the  time  growing 
bigger  from  astonishment,  until  at  the 
close  he  slapped  his  leg  and  burst  out 
with  a  hearty  roar. 

"By  the  Lord  Harry!  it's  just  like 
him." 

Ethel  Courtleigh,   coming  along  the 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

garden  -  path,  heard  the  enthusiastic 
roar. 

"Just  like  who,  captain?"  she  asked. 

Captain  Thorncliffe  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  snatched  off  his  cap,  all  confusion. 

"I — er — ah — beg  pardon  —  'deed  I 
do,  Mistress  Courtleigh.  I — er — didn't 
know  you  were  there." 

"I  think  you  might  ask  me  to  sit 
down,"  she  said,  laughing  at  his  con- 
fusion. 

Now  the  captain's  idea  of  war  was  to 
go  right  after  the  enemy. 

"May  I  have  that  rose?"  It  was  his 
very  first  question  after  they  sat  down. 

She  looked  at  him  in  mock  surprise. 
"Why,  how  impetuous  you  soldiers  are! 
You'd  take  a  town  before  you  begin  the 
siege." 

"Some  citadels  are  best  taken  by 
storm,"  he  answered,  meaningly. 

Mistress  Courtleigh  threw  up  her 
head.  "No,  sir,"  she  sniffed.  "This 
140 


A     WAR-OFFICE     SPECIAL 


rose  shall  be  a  reward  of  merit.  I'll 
give  it  to  you  when  you  tell  me  what 
interested  you  in  the  paper  just  now." 

Thorncliffe  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"Oh,  that,"  he  said,  carelessly. 

" '  Oh,  that,'  "  she  mocked  him.  "  Yes, 
you  said,  '  It's  just  like  him.'  Now  just 
like  who?" 

"Why,  that  harum-scarum  young 
fool,  Percy  Latapie,  of  course.  The 
scapegrace  is  in  England." 

"The  French  Percy  in  England!" 
cried  the  girl,  in  horrified  tones. 

"Truly." 

"Why,  we  shall  all  be  killed,"  she 
exclaimed,  in  mock  terror. 

"Or  led  captive,"  he  laughed,  slyly. 

"But  how  do  you  know?" 

"Listen."  The  captain  picked  up 
the  paper  and  began  to  read: 


"Word  has  just  reached  the  War  Office 
that  the  notorious  bandit,  known  as  "  French 
Percy,"  has  left  France  and  is  supposed  to  be 
141 


CASTLE     COMEDY 


in  England.  Heretofore  his  disappearance 
from  the  French  army  has  always  presaged 
some  disaster  to  England.  He  is  the  man 
who  entered  the  English  camp  in  the  guise  of 
a  trooper  and  stole  the  papers  of  the  com- 
mander-in -chief,  escaping  safely  with  them 
and  delivering  them  into  the  hands  of  the 
French  marshal,  Soult.  Numerous  other 
desperate  enterprises  are  credited  to  this 
Percy  Latapie.  It  is  said  to  be  his  boast  that 
he  has  never  failed  in  anything  yet  undertaken. 
From  a  source  within  the  French  lines  it  has 
been  learned  that  "  French  Percy  "  asked  leave 
of  Napoleon,  saying  that  he  wished  to  visit 
his  family  home  in  England,  in  accordance 
with  the  dying  wish  of  his  mother,  who  passed 
away  a  year  ago.  His  mother  belonged  to  the 
well-known  family  of  Percys  on  the  east  coast. 
She  ran  away  years  ago  with  the  young  Vi- 
comte  de  St.  Croix.  The  family  estate,  by 
entail,  has  become  the  property  of  Sir  Henry 
Percy,  a  stanch  Tory,  who  would  be  only  too 
glad  to  deliver  over  his  renegade  cousin.  The 
place  is  now  being  watched.  It  is  safe  to 
wager  that  "  French  Percy"  will  fail  in  this, 
his  last  daring  escapade,  or,  if  he  gets  to  the 
castle,  will  certainly  be  captured.  In  that 
event  the  death  of  a  spy  awaits  him.  A  re- 
ward of  five  hundred  guineas  has  long  stood 
for  the  body  of  this  Percy  Latapie,  dead  or 
alive.  The  commander-in-chief  himself  offers, 

142 


A     WAR-OFFICE     SPECIAL 

in  addition,  one  hundred  pounds  for  the  capt- 
ure of  "French  Percy."  '  " 

The  captain  paused  and  looked  up. 
"And  to  think  that  little  more  than  five 
and  one-half  feet  of  dead  scapegrace 
should  be  worth  six  hundred  pounds." 

"  But  he  is  such  a  brave  soldier,"  said 
Mistress  Courtleigh. 

"Do  girls  always  love  brave  soldiers?" 
asked  Captain  Thorncliffe. 

"Would  Sir  Henry  Percy  arrest  his 
cousin?"  she  countered. 

"Of  course,"  answered  the  captain. 

"And  you?"  she  persisted. 

"Perhaps,"  he  laughed.  "You  see,  I 
owe  him  one.  I'll  ride  over  to  the  gar- 
rison to-day  and  tell  them  to  be  on  the 
lookout." 

"Will  you  take  your  reward  before 
you  go?"  she  smiled,  holding  up  the  rose 
tantalizingly  before  him. 

"And  more  too!"   he   cried,   seizing 
both  hand  and  flower  in  his  big  grasp. 
143 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

The  girl  gave  a  little  scream.  "What 
a  grip,  captain !  Do  you  always  " — arch- 
ly— "always  squeeze  so  hard?" 

"I — I — didn't  mean  to  hurt,"  he 
blundered.  "You  know,  Ethel,  I  beg — 
I  mean — " 

She  interrupted,  laughing:  "  Come,  I'll 
tell  your  fortune  with  the  flower." 

They  bent  over  side  by  side  with  their 
heads  very  close  together.  She  held  the 
flower,  he  pulled  off  the  petals,  and  as 
one  they  repeated: 

"One  I  love, 
Two  I  love, 

Three  I  love,  I  say; 
Four  I  love  with  all  my  heart — " 

Unnoticed,  May  Percy  had  slipped 
across  the  lawn.  She  crept  just  behind 
the  pair  on  the  bench,  then  put  her 
hands  over  her  eyes. 

"I'm  not  looking." 

As  if  by  magic,  the  soldier  and  the 
girl  stood  upright  a  good  yard  apart. 
144 


A     WAR-OFFICE     SPECIAL 


"We  were — er — just  seeing  how  many 
leaves  there  are  on  a  rose,"  murmured 
Mistress  Courtleigh,  confusedly,  holding 
up  a  dilapidated  flower. 

May  Percy  came  gayly  around  the 
bench  to  kiss  her  blushing  friend.  "And 
to  think,  sweet,  that  I  never  knew  be- 
fore you  were  near-sighted!"  she  said, 
sympathetically;  then,  turning  to  Cap- 
tain Thorn  cliff  e :  "And  how  hard  it  must 
be  on  a  brave  soldier  to  have  poor  eyes. 
How  can  you  see  to  shoot?  And  yet, 
they  say  you  are  a  famous  shot." 

Captain  Thorncliffe  drew  himself  up 
stiffly. 

"My  eyes  are  very  good,"  he  said. 
"Sometimes  they  see  strange  things." 

Like  a  flash  came  the  reply:  "And  be- 
ing an  English  soldier,  the  tongue  never 
tells  them.  But,  captain,  would  you 
ask  Sir  John  Wilmerding  to  meet  me 
here?  I  wish  to  speak  to  him." 

Her  woman's  intuition  told  her  that 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


they  knew.  The  Percy  headlong  cour- 
age sought  quick  battle,  if  it  must  come. 

Captain  Thorncliffe  bowed  ceremoni- 
ously. "Certainly,  Mistress  Percy,"  he 
said,  and  started  away  to  find  Sir  John. 

May    Percy    turned    to    her    friend. 

Now,  sweetheart,  what  were  you  do- 
ing? Tell  me  all  about  it." 

Ethel  Courtleigh's  face  showed  only 
blank  surprise.  "Doing?  Why,  noth- 
ing," she  said,  "but  reading  in  the  paper 
about  your  cousin." 

"My  cousin?"  asked  Mistress  Percy. 

"Yes,  the  French  Percy,  your  over- 
the-water  cousin.  Here  it  is,"  and  she 
offered  the  other  girl  the  paper. 

May  Percy  ran  through  the  piece  has- 
tily. "Why,  father  would  never  give 
him  up,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  finished. 

"Indeed,   he   would,   though,"    cried 

Mistress    Courtleigh,    with    conviction. 

"Captain  Thorncliffe  said  so;  and  the 

captain  is  going  to  ride  over  to  the  gar- 

146 


A     WAR-OFFICE     SPECIAL 

rison  this  evening  and  warn  the  soldiers 
to  be  on  guard." 

"Eff!"  A  sudden  wonderful  thought 
seemed  to  strike  May  Percy.  Her 
cheeks  became  red,  her  eyes  big  and 
sparkling.  "Suppose — "  she  began. 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  were  going  to 
say,"  cried  the  other.  "I  thought  so, 
too,  as  I  read  it.  You  are  thinking  of 
the  two  Frenchmen  who  came  yesterday 
and  slipped  away  last  night.  The  little 
one,  he  had  Percy's  gray  eyes.  I  wish  he 
had  stayed.  We  might  have  found  out 
for  sure." 

"Yes,"  said  Mistress  Percy,  absently, 
"we  might."  Apparently  she  had  lost 
all  her  enthusiasm,  for  she  sat  thinking 
deeply. 

And  now  Captain  Thorncliffe  was 
bringing  on  Sir  John.  They  came  across 
the  lawn  together,  talking  low.  "You 
ought  to  have  allowed  me  to  settle  it  last 
night,"  declared  Wilmerding,  bitterly. 

147 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


Captain  Thorncliffe  laid  a  soothing 
hand  upon  his  arm. 

"Be  calm,  Jack.  'Twas  but  a  girlish 
freak.  All  will  be  right.  You  must  not 
fight  or  kill  him.  You  should  not  have 
worn  your  sword." 

They  were  too  close  now  for  confi- 
dences, and  the  captain  cried  aloud  to 
the  girls,  "Ah,  Mistress  Percy,  see,  I've 
brought  your  lover,  and  now  I  claim  my 
reward." 

"Do  you  think  she  is  worth  the  ser- 
vice, captain?"  laughed  May  Percy. 

Mistress  Courtleigh  drew  herself  up 
with  assumed  haughtiness. 

"Well,  if  you  don't  want  me — come, 
captain,"  and  they  started  for  the  gar- 
den. 

Mistress  Percy  and  Sir  John  looked  at 
each  other,  and  both  knew  that  each 
understood. 


FOR  MY  LADY'S  HONOR 

FOR  quite  a  minute  the  man  and  girl 
looked  at  each  other. 

"You  sent  for  me?"  he  questioned, 
after  a  pause. 

Mistress  Percy  raised  her  eyes,  steely 
now,  and  looked  Sir  John  over  casually. 

"  I  only  wanted  to  tell  you,"  she  re- 
marked, in  an  even,  polished  tone,  "  that 
I  think  Dorothy  Stanfield  would  make 
you  a  much  better  wife  than  I.  She 
wants  the  position,  you  see." 

"A  mere  excuse  which  means  you 
don't,"  he  blurted,  angrily.  "You  wish, 
then,  to  be  released  from  our  compact?" 

Already  she  had  forced  him  on  the 
defensive. 

149 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"  Do  you  wish  so  much  now  to  marry 
me?"  she  asked,  with  meaning. 

"  Certainly  you  must  have  good  cause 
for  your  decision,"  he  retorted. 

Her  eyes  flashed  a  bit,  but  she  con- 
trolled herself. 

"I  might  say,  'because' — that's  a 
woman's  reason — and,  besides,  it  would 
save  your  self-love  a  few  wounds." 

Sir  John  bowed.  "Mistress  Percy  is 
strangely  considerate.  But  do  you  re- 
member you  have  promised  to  become 
my  wife?" 

The  girl  raised  her  hands  protestingly. 

"Don't!  don't!  Why  remind  me  of 
my  misfortunes?  Remember,  it  was 
my  father's  plan." 

' '  True , ' '  he  admitted .  ' '  Your  father's 
and  mine.  It  was  their  plan  first." 

"Yes,  Sir  John,"  the  eyebrows  raised 
and  the  dainty  nose  tilted  a  bit  more 
superciliously.  "As  I  have  remarked 
once  before,  you  have  always  been  a 
150 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 

very  dutiful  son."  Her  tone  was  one 
of  polite  encouragement  to  a  little  boy 
for  a  good  deed.  Then,  as  they  faced 
each  other,  Gaston  Dubarre,  prepared 
for  his  going  away,  and  wearing  the 
coat  left  by  Jacques  Fourney,  the  spy, 
came  along  the  garden-path  from  the 
lodge.  He  started  to  cross  the  lawn, 
but,  seeing  Sir  John  and  Mistress  Percy 
talking,  paused  at  the  bench  to  wait 
until  they  should  move  away.  His  eye 
caught  the  paper  thrown  aside  by  May 
Percy.  He  picked  it  up  curiously.  In 
a  moment  Dubarre  was  reading  with 
eager  haste. 

Meanwhile,  the  lover  who  came  out 
to  demand  had,  instead,  drifted  ig- 
nominiously  into  helpless  supplication. 

"May,  you  know  not  what  you  are 
saying.  I  have  been  your  lover  since 
childhood,  since  those  days  when  we 
played  make-believe  knight  and  lady 
in  the  park  together,  and  I  defended  you 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


L 


with  my  wooden  sword,  and  killed  a 
vicious  dog  for  you.  I  don't  remember 
when  I  haven't  loved  you.  The  love 
has  grown  with  me.  It  is  part  of  me. 
I  couldn't  rid  myself  of  it  if  I  would. 
Once  we  were  friends  and  playmates. 
Then  you  liked  me.  I  thought  you 
loved  me,  and  I  spoke  to  your  father. 
He  was  glad.  You  were  willing.  In 
the  past  few  weeks  has  come  a  change. 
Why  is  it?" 

Mistress  Percy  had  taken  a  flower  out 
of  her  belt  and  was  pulling  the  petals 
from  it  in  absent  fashion.  Now  she 
yawned,  looked  up  into  her  lover's 
abject  face,  then,  with  a  shrug,  cast  the 
mutilated  flower  far  from  her.  No 
words  were  needed  with  that  answer. 
Sir  John's  teeth  came  together  hard. 

"What  o'clock  is  it?"  said  Mistress 
Percy,  yawning.  "It  must  be  almost 
noon  -  come,"  and  she  turned  towards 
the  castle. 

152 


FOR     MY     LADY^S     HONOR 

The  man  sprang  after  her  and  caught 
her  arm.  "  I  won't  be  put  off  this  way!" 
he  exclaimed.  "You  have  agreed  to 
marry  me.  I  have  yours  and  your 
father's  word.  The  betrothal  has  been 
publicly  announced.  I'm  ready  to  per- 
form my  part  of  the  contract,  and  I 
demand  to  be  treated  as  your  betrothed." 

The  girl  released  herself  and  faced 
him.  The  scant  Percy  patience  was  all 
gone  now. 

"Ah,  Sir  John  demands!"  she  sneered. 
"Has  Sir  John  always,  in  thought  and 
word  and  deed,  treated  May  Percy  with 
the  consideration  and  respect  due  his 
affianced  wife?  Let  Sir  John  question 
himself  closely  on  this  point." 

At  that  speech  Wilmerding  went  white 
and  weakened.  Only  dogged  desire  kept 
him  pleading. 

"  If  there  was  any  lingering  hesitation, 
or  you  did  not  expect  to  fulfil  it,  why 
did  you  promise?" 


IF* 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


The  dancing-master  had  finished  a  sec- 
ond perusal  of  the  story  about  "  French 
Percy."  Now  he  slipped  the  paper  in 
the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat,  and,  at- 
tracted by  Sir  John's  loud  speech,  stood 
up  to  listen.  He  rose  just  in  time  to 
hear  May  Percy,  losing  an  instant  her 
steely  calm,  blurt,  angrily: 

"Because,  loving  no  other,  to  gratify 
my  father's  heart's  desire  and  save  him 
from  disappointment  I  would  even  mar- 
ry you,  John  Wilmerding,  though  I  did 
not  love  you." 

Dubarre,  standing  beside  the  tree, 
smiled  quickly  and  drew  in  a  long 
breath.  For  an  instant  Sir  John  was 
stunned. 

"I  presume,  then,  that  now  you  do 
love  some  one,"  he  said  at  last,  bitterly. 
That  was  a  home  thrust. 

"Do  you?"  the  girl  sneered,  and 
raised  her  chin  very  high,  but  her  cheeks 
were  flaming.  The  discarded  lover  saw 
154 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 


the  red  signals  and  instantly  his  fierce 
jealousy  swept  him  into  rage. 

"Yes,  and  I  came  here  to  have  a 
settlement  with  you  about  that  very 
thing,  and  I  will  have  it,"  he  cried. 

Mistress  Percy  stiffened. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

Rage-blinded,  Sir  John  swept  on. 
"And  I'd  have  had  it  last  night  but  for 
Thorncliffe — damn  him!" 

At  the  words  Dubarre  started  sud- 
denly, then  stopped  as  quickly  and 
gripped  the  back  of  the  bench  to  hold 
himself  behind  the  tree. 

"  Sir  John  Wilmerding,"  the  girl  cried, 
"  my  father  shall — "  But  the  man  had 
swept  too  far  past  the  point  of  reason 
to  heed  her  warning. 

"Yes,  he  shall  know  it,  though  'twill 
break  his  proud  heart.  You'll  beg  in 
vain  for  an  honest  name  then.  Sir 
Henry  will  be  proud — all  will  be  proud 
of  you — a  Percy,  with  a  low-born  lover." 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

May  Percy  suddenly  became  white  like 
death,  then  burning  rage  and  shame 
made  her  face  like  fire.  Her  eyes 
opened  wide,  her  nostrils  dilated.  She 
trembled  and  could  not  speak. 

The  blood  was  all  gone  from  under 
Dubarre's  nails,  and  he  held  to  the 
bench  to  keep  himself  from  starting 
forward.  Now  the  girl  came  close  to 
Sir  John. 

"Do  you  presume,  sir,"  she  almost 
whispered,  so  low  and  fierce  the  tone. 

"I  don't  presume,"  he  cried.  "I 
know,  for  I  saw  you  in  his  room  last 
night — the  room  of  that  low-born  French 
jig-stepper." 

From  the  jig-stepper,  standing  just 
out  of  sight  beside  the  bench,  came  a 
low  gasp  of  agony.  He  let  go  his  hold, 
then  quickly  slipped  out  of  his  coat, 
dropping  the  garment  upon  the  bench, 
and  laying  his  hat  upon  it.  Next  he 
rolled  up  the  right  sleeve  of  his  shirt 
156 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 


above  the  elbow  and  stood  upright 
again  beside  the  tree,  waiting — tensely 
waiting. 

May  Percy  was  sneering  now.  "A 
brave  lover,  truly,  to  doubt  the  honor 
of  his  affianced  wife!"  Then  her  anger 
blazed  out  once  more  beyond  all  bounds. 
"Now,  I'll  never  marry  you — no,  never! 
never!" 

The  tense  listener  behind  the  tree 
gave  a  great,  heaving  sigh  of  joy.  That 
last  made  it  all  worth  while  to  him. 

"You  say  well,"  sneered  Sir  John,  in 
turn.  "Doubtless  you  thought  it  a 
great  joke  to  hide  in  his  clock?  I  hope 
you  confined  your  explorations  of  his 
apartment  to  the  interior  of  the  clock." 

"Coward!"  the  girl  cried,  very  white. 

An  avenging  shadow  flashed  from  the 
shrouding  tree,  like  lightning.  Straight 
as  a  bolt  it  went.  In  three  leaps  Du- 
barre  had  reached  his  victim.  May 
Percy  gave  a  startled  little  scream. 
157 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


Wilmerding  glanced  that  way.  He 
turned  in  time  to  meet  the  Frenchman's 
blazing  eyes  —  in  time  to  catch  the 
slashing,  open-handed  blow  that  sent 
the  blood  tingling  to  his  cheeks. 

"Quick!  Liar!  Traducer  of  women, 
fight  quickly,  that  I  may  kill  before  the 
sun  stops  to  shine  for  shame  of  you!" 

The  words,  rushing  from  Dubarre's 
lips,  came  tumbling,  almost  telescoping 
one  another. 

Sir  John  sprang  back,  red,  angry,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  his  sword.  With  ac- 
customed gesture  the  Frenchman  reach- 
ed for  his  own,  only  to  find  himself  un- 
armed. Then  he  cried  again: 

"Quick!  Quick!  Give  me  a  sword, 
I  say." 

Wilmerding  dropped  his  hand  from 
the  hilt  with  a  sneering  laugh.  "Do 
you  think  I'd  fight  you — you  renegade, 
you  low-born  French  mountebank?" 

Dubarre  was  calmer  now.  "From 
158 


FOR     MY     LADY  S 

knowing  how,  I  shall  dance  the  merrier 
at  your  burial,  monsieur,"  he  retorted. 

"A  sword,  forsooth!"  sneered  Sir 
John.  "I'll  give  you  a  rope,  and  the 
horse-boys  shall  lay  it  on  your  back." 

The  Frenchman  sprang  towards  him. 
"Would  you  have  me  strangle  you  like 
a  dog  that  is  choked?" 

The  Englishman  whipped  out  his 
weapon.  "A  step  nearer  and  I'll  kill 
you  as  one."  Then,  returning  his 
sword  to  his  scabbard,  he  changed  his 
tone.  "I  forgot  I  was  dealing  with  a 
servant.  Here!"  He  drew  some  silver 
from  his  pocket  and  threw  it  towards 
Dubarre.  "Take  this,  my  man,  and 
forget  your  spleen." 

"For  shame — for  shame!"  burst  im- 
passioned from  May  Percy's  lips.  "If 
you  are  a  man,  Sir  John — an  English- 
man— give  him  a  sword  and  fight." 

For  the  first  time  Dubarre  took  ap- 
parent notice  of  her. 


C 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"Thank  you,  mademoiselle,"  he  said. 

Then  as  the  three  stood  there,  Captain 
Thorncliffe  and  Mistress  Courtleigh  ap- 
peared coming  along  the  path  from  the 
garden,  and  they  were  but  the  vanguard 
for  the  others.  The  captain's  war- 
trained  senses  quickly  caught  the  signs 
of  strife.  He  reached  the  bench  just  in 
time  to  hear  Sir  John  exclaim,  as  he 
drew  himself  up,  "I  fight  my  equals 
only." 

"What's  this?  What's  this?"  cried 
Thorncliffe.  "Not  a  duel?" 

Dubarre  turned  to  him.  "Will  you, 
captain,  lend  me  your  sword?" 

"To  stick  at  my  best  friend?  Not 
much,  Sir  Frenchman." 

But  still  Dubarre  pleaded:  "I'll  not 
disgrace  it,  captain." 

May  Percy  and  Ethel  Courtleigh  had 
drawn  together  and  stood  silent,  fearful, 
towards  the  rear,  holding  each  other's 
hands.  The  men  seemed  to  have  for- 
160 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 


gotten  their  presence  entirely.  Sir  John 
was  bent  on  further  humiliating  his 
low-born  antagonist. 

"French  canaille  touch  the  point  of 
Captain  Thorncliffe's  sword  only,"  he 
laughed. 

Unheeding,  the  Frenchman  continued 
to  beg.  "  You,  monsieur,  are  a  soldier — 
a  real  soldier;  I,  too,  have  fought  in  the 
ranks.  By  the  camaraderie  of  battle,  I 
plead  with  you.  On  my  knees  I  will 
beg  you,  lend  me  your  sword  for  just 
one  little  instant,  that  I  may  avenge  a 
black  insult." 

Thorncliffe  guessed  the  quarrel  and 
the  cause,  but  loyalty  to  his  friend  left 
him  no  choice. 

'  'Tis  useless,  Dubarre,"  he  said. 
"You  cannot  fight  him." 

The  dancing-master  turned  back  with 

stinging  invective  on  his  enemy.  "What 

accident  of  birth  permits  you  to  refuse 

me,  coward?     The  line  of  ancestors  you 

ii  161 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


hide  behind  would  be  the  first  to  scorn 
you.  Are  you  afraid  to  die?  Come, 
throw  away  your  sword  and  fight 
without  it.  I'll  promise  not  to  kill 
you." 

Stung  at  last  to  anger,  Wilmerding 
sprang  at  him,  then  paused.  Dubarre 
stood  unmoved. 

"Possibly  monsieur  is  afraid  of  the 
disgrace  of  being  beaten  by  a  dancing- 
master.  If  so,  I'll  fight  you  secretly." 

"You'll  fight  the  stocks  in  public," 
roared  Sir  John. 

"  Coward!"  muttered  May  Percy.  And 
then,  in  a  straggling  rush  the  others  came 
along  the  garden-path. 

"Too  base  to  retract  a  lie  —  too 
cowardly  to  fight !  Mon  Dieu — an  Eng- 
lish gentleman!"  exclaimed  Dubarre,  in 
absolute  disgust,  as  he  turned  to  meet 
the  rest.  "Come — come  all!"  he  cried. 
"Yes,  come  to  see  a  Frenchman  punish 
a  craven." 

162 


FOR     MY      LADY'S     HONOR 

"What's  this?"  exclaimed  Sir  Henry 
Percy.  Sir  John  answered  him. 

"Your  French  pet's  crazy.  I  hinted 
that  he  could  not  dance  divinely." 

The  English  chorus  came  in  strong  at 
that.  "Don't  mind  him,  Sir  John." 
"Give  him  to  the  grooms!"  "Let  him 
cool  his  blood  in  the  duck -pond!" 
"Match  your  man  'gainst  him  single- 
sticks. 'Twould  be  great  sport!" 

The  balked  one  was  in  despair.  "'If 
I  were  a  gentleman!"  he  muttered. 

Wilmerding  heard. 

"Then  I'd  kill  you  like  one.  I  fight 
my  peers." 

A  look  of  supreme  resolve  sprang  in 
Dubarre's  eyes. 

"Monsieur  fights  his  peers!"  The 
tone  rang  clamorous  joy.  With  a 
panther-like  spring  the  Frenchman  was 
beside  Captain  Thorn cliffe.  An  instant, 
and  he  had  wrenched  out  the  captain's 
sword  and  was  back  before  Sir  John. 
163 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


The  rest  looked  on,  amazed.  The  man 
had  moved  almost  too  quick  for  wits  to 
know,  let  alone  hands  to  stop  him. 
Now  he  saluted  his  enemy.  It  was  the 
sword  salute  of  a  French  officer. 

"An  English  gentleman  must  fight 
when  his  peer  demands  it,"  cried  the 
dancing-master. 

In  laughing  delight  he  continued: 
"Monsieur  has  asked  the  hand  of  a 
Percy  in  marriage.  The  Percys  are 
anybody's  peers.  Only  last  night  my- 
self and  these  gentlemen  here  heard 
monsieur  wish  that  he  might  have 
'French  Percy'  at  his  sword -point. 
Monsieur  shall  have  that  wish."  He 
paused  a  brief  instant  and  drew  himself 
up  proudly.  "/  am  Percy  Latapie, 
Vicomte  de  St.  Croix  —  /  am  'French 
Percy. ' '  Again  he  stopped  and  saluted. 
"Now  will  monsieur  fight?" 

An  instant  amazement  held  the  circle 
lumb,  but  in  that  brief  space  Sir  John's 


"IT    WAS    THE    SWORD    SALUTE    OF    A    FRENCH    OFFICER*' 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 

sword  was  out.  Now  he  rushed  wildly, 
strong  in  the  might  of  his  double  cause 
for  hate.  Deftly  the  Frenchman  parried 
and  sprang  back. 

"Hold,  monsieur — hold!"  he  cried. 

Wilmerding  checked,  snarling,  "  Have 
you  got  enough  so  soon?" 

Dubarre  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  I  wish  to  kill  honorably,  not  murder, 
monsieur,"  he  said.  "If  Sir  John  will 
but  remove  his  coat  and  scabbard,  he 
will  not  be  encumbered" — with  his  old 
dancing-master  grace  he  bowed — "then 
we  can  resume,  and  I  promise  monsieur 
not  to  be  the  one  to  cry  'hold'  again." 

Sir  John  looked  his  astonishment. 

"You  are  a  gentleman,"  he  blurted, 
at  last,  and  turned  to  remove  his  coat. 

Smiling,  the  other  awaited  him.  A 
great  change  had  come  over  this  French- 
man. The  clash  of  steel  had  quite 
transformed  him.  It  was  not  the  hum- 
ble dancing-master,  with  his  profound 
165 


THE    CASTLE    COMEDY 

grace,  nor  yet  the  eager,  impetuous  fire- 
eater  Dubarre;  but  a  new  man — the 
courtly,  daring,  utterly  reckless  "  French 
Percy,"  who  stood  easy  and  graceful, 
poised  for  the  attack.  Still  smiling,  he 
watched  Sir  John's  preparation,  and  he 
did  not  look  at  May  Percy  at  all. 

On  Sir  Henry  Percy's  quick  command 
the  other  girls  had  hurried  for  the  house, 
but  Mistress  Percy  merely  shookherhead, 
and,  after  one  look,  the  father  dared  not 
order  her  to  go.  Silent  and  white  she 
stood,  watching  the  smiling  man  who 
had  so  proudly,  so  gladly  spoken  his 
own  death-warrant  for  her  honor.  She 
knew  'twere  best  for  him  to  die  on  Sir 
John  "Wilmerding's  sword,  for,  if  he 
lived  and  Sir  John  fell,  naught  but  a 
spy's  death  awaited  him. 

There  had  never  been  a  thought  of 

stopping  the  duel.     The  Englishman's 

bull-dog  hate  and  courage  would  not 

have  permitted  that.     Only,  the  watch- 

166 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 

ing  men  hoped  and  prayed  that  their 
countryman  might  win. 

And  now  Sir  John  was  ready.  Strong, 
bulky,  his  face  blood-red  from  hate,  he 
advanced,  gripping  his  sword.  Slender 
and  alert,  his  smiling  antagonist  awaited 
him,  the  impersonation  of  nervous  force. 
They  saluted. 

"Begin,"  said  Captain  Thorncliffe 

With  a  rush  Wilmerding  came  for- 
ward. The  Frenchman  gave.  Back 
and  still  farther  back  he  was  pressed, 
but,  like  a  swallow,  darting  in  and  out, 
this  way  and  that,  he  kept  the  heavy 
Englishman  at  bay.  His  sword  seemed 
rather  to  anticipate  than  meet  Wilmer- 
ding's  thrusts.  He  had  no  time  to 
thrust  himself.  And  still  Sir  John 
pressed  in.  Dubarre  was  parrying,  leap- 
ing, dodging — here,  there,  everywhere — 
and  all  the  while  laughing  with  the  eager 
abandon  of  a  boy. 

The  bench  beside  the  tree  was  Sir 
167 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

John's  objective  point.  Slowly,  care- 
fully, he  forced  Dubarre  towards  it. 
Hemmed  in  against  that  bench,  his  legs 
could  not  save  him.  Sir  John  must  win. 
The  Frenchman  seemed  to  fall  into  the 
trap.  Now  he  was  scant  three  feet  from 
the  bench.  Anxious,  breathless,  the 
crowd  bent  forward,  waiting  for  English 
victory.  Alone,  an  alien  was  about  to 
die. 

"The  bench— Gaston!  The  bench!" 
The  warning  cry  burst  from  May  Percy's 
lips  without  her  knowing.  Wilmerding 
heard  it,  and,  baffled,  thrust  the  harder. 
Dubarre  heard  it,  too. 

"Thanks,  mademoiselle,"  he  cried, 
gayly,  and  between  two  quick  parries 
leaped  backward  upon  the  bench. 

"The  jumping-jack  tricks  help,  mon- 
sieur," he  laughed. 

Wilmerding  was  too  terribly  in  earnest 
to  talk.  With  tigerish  savagery  he  still 
pressed  in.  His  sword,  hate  -  aimed, 
168 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 

was  as  a  white  streak  of  mirror-flashed 
sunlight  playing  too  fast  for  eye  to  fol- 
low about  his  victim.  His  anger  had 
grown  to  murder-lust  now.  And  all  the 
while,  poised  lightly  on  his  unstable  foot- 
hold, the  Frenchman  joked  and  played 
with  death.  A  dozen  times  he  seemed 
touched.  Half  a  score  more,  his  fate  on 
a  hostile  sword-point  was  scarce  an  inch 
away,  but  after  each  good  thrust  he 
never  failed  to  cry,  "Well  done,  Mon- 
sieur Anglais!"  then  laugh  at  his  oppo- 
nent. 

Half  a  dozen  Englishmen  prayed  that 
each  thrust  might  end  it.  Only  a  girl, 
white,  fascinated,  was  watching  one  face 
smiling  amid  a  flashing  halo  of  sword- 
blades  and  murmuring  over  and  over  to 
herself,  "God  help  him — God  help  him!" 

With  a  last  rush,  Sir  John  came  on. 
Dubarre  sprang  lightly  over  the  back  of 
the  bench  to  the  ground,  and  then  they 
were  fighting  across  a  barrier. 
169 


I 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


"Monsieur  is  so  impetuous,"  protested 
the  laughing  Frenchman. 

For  reply  the  other  rushed  after  him 
around  the  bench.  And  now  the  French- 
man was  quartering  back  to  the  crowd 
again.  He  twisted  and  turned  so  as  to 
face  them,  and  then,  for  the  first  time, 
over  Wilmerding's  shoulder  Dubarre 
saw  May  Percy's  face.  That  glance 
changed  everything. 

"Pardon,  pardon — I  did  not  think," 
he  cried,  as  though  to  no  one,  but  one 
did  understand.  Then  "French  Percy" 
— not  Dubarre — took  up  the  fight.  He 
stopped.  The  blades  slipped  past  until 
the  hilts  kissed,  and  Sir  John  gave  back. 
And  now,  straight  through  the  midst 
of  his  friends,  "French  Percy"  drove 
the  Englishman.  The  avenger's  sword 
was  as  lightning,  fearful  and  appalling, 
that  would  not  be  denied.  He  had 
ceased  to  laugh.  Helpless,  Sir  John 
gave,  wincing,  from  a  million  points 
170 


FOR     MY     LADY  S     HONOR 

that  threatened  him.  Back,  back  they 
went. 

"French  Percy"  feinted  low,  then 
high  and  low  and  high  again.  The 
lightning  flash  drove  in.  A  white  blade 
licked  red  through  the  big  Englishman's 
neck,  and  Sir  John  fell. 

In  the  pause  that  followed  naught 
could  be  heard  but  the  low  sobbing  of 
the  girl. 

His  sword  red,  "French  Percy"  faced 
them  all.  Then,  with  a  bitter  sneer,  he 
threw  down  his  weapon. 

"Now,  take  me  to  your  hangman." 


XI 


MINE    IMAGINATIVE    HOST 

FOR  three  hours  Wellington's  spy  and 
his  assistant  had  remained  shut  up  in 
a  room  of  the  White  Falcon  Inn.  Jacques 
Fourney  still  paced  angrily  across  from 
wall  to  wall,  while  Jean,  the  weaker  of 
the  two,  utterly  dejected,  had  thrown 
himself  down  on  the  floor  in  one  corner. 
From  there  he  now  cursed  bitterly  at  the 
crop-eared  fool  of  an  innkeeper,  and  then 
bemoaned  his  own  fate. 

Fourney  stopped  in  his  hurried  walk 
to  berate  his  cursing  comrade. 

"For  the  love  of  Heaven,  Jean,  be 
quiet,  and  let  us  make  some  plan  for 
getting  out." 

"Get  out?"  ejaculated  Jean.  "How 
172 


MINE     IMAGINATIVE     HOST 


in  God's  world  can  we  get  out  of  this 
hell's-hole  he's  tricked  us  into?  If  you 
had  not  left  your  pass  in  that  coat  the 
Frenchman's  fool  wore  off,  we  had  not 
been  stopped." 

"We  brought  the  signet -ring,  clear 
proof  of  'French  Percy's'  presence.  A 
good  exchange,  I  think  it,"  protested 
Fourney. 

"But  'French  Percy'  will  have  found 
that  pass,  taken  the  alarm,  and  gone, 
while  we  are  waiting  for  the  idiot  down- 
stairs to  send  for  soldiers  to  take  us," 
Jean  argued. 

"The  more  reason  we  must  work  our 
way  out  by  morning.  I'll  fix  it."  And 
Fourney  began  again  to  walk. 

The  White  Falcon  Inn  was  but  a  scant 
five  miles  from  the  castle.  When  they 
slipped  from  Dubarre's  room  that  night 
the  spies  had  made  straight  for  the  inn. 
It  was  after  ten  o'clock  when  they  got 
there,  and  doors  were  closed  tight.  With 


ffc 


CASTLE     COMEDY 


difficulty  they  aroused  the  place,  and  the 
sleepy  landlord  stood  aghast  at  two 
strange  wayfarers  who  wanted  horses  at 
that  time  of  night.  They  were  dirty 
and  torn  and  scratched  from  walking 
through  the  muddy  fields.  Ill-looking 
customers,  any  one  would  have  called 
them.  Then  "mine  host"  caught  sight 
of  pistols  ill  concealed,  and  that  decided 
him. 

"Highwaymen  who  have  lost  their 
mounts,"  he  thought.  No,  they  could 
not  have  horses.  He  kept  none  for 
hire  there,  he  said.  Fourney  begged, 
pleaded,  insisted,  all  in  vain.  It  was  the 
king's  business  they  were  on,  he  urged. 
The  loyal  innkeeper  pursed  up  his  lips 
and  asked  for  proofs.  Fourney  could 
show  nothing.  His  only  credentials 
were  in  the  coat  left  at  the  castle. 

Mine  host  became  in  turn  obstinate, 
sulky,  suspicious.  At  last,  angry,  the 
chief  spy  drew  a  pistol,  promising  great 
174 


MINE     IMAGINATIVE     HOST 


rewards,  but  threatening  dire  vengeance 
if  the  horses  were  not  forthcoming.  Then 
mine  host  seemed  to  yield,  and  straight- 
way invited  them  into  the  house  to 
drink  a  bottle  of  wine,  while  the 
grumbling  hostler  stumbled  sleepily  out 
to  prepare  horses  for  the  "noble  gentle- 
men." Mine  host  lured  the  un- 
suspecting travellers  into  an  up-stairs 
room  while  he  went  for  the  wine.  He 
was  gone  so  long  that  Fourney  started 
after  him,  only  to  find  the  oak  door 
barred  on  the  outside.  Thus  were  the 
spies  trapped.  In  the  morning  mine 
host,  as  he  informed  them  through 
the  door,  would  send  for  the  soldiers 
"  to  seize  and  hang  the  highway- 
men." 

The  soldiers  were  fifteen  miles  away. 
They  would  not  reach  the  inn  perhaps 
for  thirty  hours.  By  that  time  "  French 
Percy"  might  have  escaped.  It  be- 
hooved the  blood  -  seekers  to  hurry. 
175 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

Fourney  stopped  suddenly  in  his  hurried 
walk  about  the  room. 

"Jean,  I  have  it!"  he  exclaimed,  and 
darted  to  the  fireplace. 

The  prison  evidently  had  been  once  a 
chamber  for  important  guests.  Though 
now  dismantled  of  fine  furniture,  its 
size  and  the  big  open  fireplace  showed 
the  quality. 

"Can  you  make  it?"  asked  Jean. 

Fourney,  the  small  one,  shook  his 
head.  "I'll  try,"  and  without  more 
ado  he  thrust  his  head  up  into  the 
black  hole. 

Ten  minutes  later  a  slight,  soot- 
begrimed  figure  crept  cautiously  along 
the  ridge-pole  of  the  White  Falcon. 
The  roof  sloped  down  to  a  low  kitchen. 
Carefully  Fourney  slipped  over  the  roof 
down  that  way.  His  stockinged  feet 
made  no  noise  on  the  old  shingles.  Soon 
he  had  reached  the  lowest  spot.  It  was 
a  short  eight-foot  drop  to  the  soft  grass 
176 


MINE     IMAGINATIVE     HOST 


below.  The  kitchen  window  stood  in- 
vitingly open.  Through  it  the  spy 
crawled  quickly.  Then,  with  all  the 
daring  and  skill  of  his  calling,  he  snaked 
through  the  inn  towards  the  up-stairs 
room,  where  his  assistant  was  still 
confined. 

Secure  in  his  belief  that  the  high- 
waymen could  not  break  through  barred 
windows  and  oaken  doors,  mine  host 
had  gone  to  sleep.  The  country  lout 
he  left  to  wat-ch  the  prisoners'  door 
snored  loud  enough  to  drown  the  slight 
noise  made  by  Fourney  raising  the  bar 
from  place.  Now  the  comrades  were 
reunited.  They  lifted  the  stable  key 
from  the  sleeping  hostler  and  started 
down-stairs.  Then  some  grim  humor 
made  Fourney  pause. 

"Inside,"  he  whispered.     Returning, 

the  spies  picked  up  the  sleeping  man 

carefully,  and  bore  him  within  the  room. 

He  only  moaned  a  bit  in  his  slumber. 

12  177 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


When  the  door  was  safely  barred  again, 
'they  crept  down  through  the  house 
and  out  of  the  kitchen  window.  Not  a 
soul  had  been  disturbed.  A  number  of 
horses  stood  within  the  stable.  They 
picked  the  two  best  and  led  them  out 
just  as  the  moon  was  setting. 

"We'll  reach  the  garrison  about  day- 
break," said  Fourney,  as  they  started. 

On  through  the  black  night  the  pair 
rode,  hard  as  horses  could  drive,  for 
this  was  the  king's  business.  Five, 
seven,  ten,  twelve  miles  of  country 
road  were  passed  over.  The  horses  had 
begun  to  flag  now,  but  under  the  magic 
of  the  whip  the  trees  and  fields  went 
by  almost  as  fast  as  at  first.  Then  the 
brown  road  unwound  before  them  for  a 
straight  last  dash.  Madly  they  urged 
on  the  race.  The  day  was  almost 
breaking. 

In  that  gray,  dead  hour  of  the  early 
dawn  a  yawning  sentry  shifted  his 
178 


MINE     IMAGINATIVE     HOST 


musket  and  wondered  ' '  where  was  that 
relief."  Then  horses'  hoofs  in  wild 
race  pounded  along  the  country  road. 
Alert,  the  sentry  sprang  to  the  charge. 

"Halt!"  The  sudden  challenge  rang 
out  clear. 

'"French  Percy's'  ours,"  spoke 
Fourney  to  Jean. 

"Halt,  there!"  sounded  the  second 
fierce  command. 

"All  right;  we  surrender,"  answered 
Fourney. 

As  he  rode  forward  his  tired  horse 
stumbled  and  the  pistol  in  his  holster 
went  off  accidentally. 


XII 


\ 


THE    PERCY   WAITING-CHAMBER 

ENTER!"  cried  Dubarre,  as  there 
came  a  knock  at  his  prison  door. 

There  was  the  sound  without  of  a 
heavy  bar  being  raised,  the  big  doors 
swung  open,  and  Sir  Henry  Percy  stalked 
in.  The  Vicomte  de  St.  Croix  arose  and 
bowed  deeply.  "Ah,  my  cousin!".. 

The  prison  was  the  old  Waiting- 
Chamber  at  the  castle.  They  called 
it  the  Waiting  -  Chamber  because  of 
an  ancient  story  that  in  the  Roundhead 
days  the  Percy  then  at  the  head  of  the 
family  retired  to  this  room,  swearing 
never  to  smile  again  or  to  move  forth 
until  the  king  over  the  water  should 
come  to  his  own.  And  that  old  Percy 
180 


THE     PERCY      WAITING-CHAMBER 

held  to  his  oath  and  lived  in  that  room, 
keeping  always  a  weather-eye  open  for 
the  Roundhead  invasion.  And  there 
one  morning  they  found  him  dead. 
And  so  they  called  it  the  Waiting- 
Chamber.  At  any  rate,  the  room,  with 
its  barred,  single  stained-glass  window, 
its  dark  furnishing  and  sombre  hangings, 
well  fitted  the  legend.  It  was  in  this 
Waiting-Chamber  that  a  later  genera- 
tion of  Percys  had  confined  this  second 
conqueror,  who  had  come  to  his  own 
from  "over  the  water." 

Sir  Henry  Percy  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  embarrassed.  "I've  come 
to  see  you,"  he  said,  at  last. 

His  cousin  smiled.  "To  lead  me 
forth  to  the  hangman?  Truly,  I'm 
honored."  More  embarrassed  than  ever, 
the  blunt  old  squire  held  out  his  hand. 

"No,  to  thank  you  for  your  noble, 
though  misguided,  defence  of  my  daugh- 
ter May.     They've  told  me  of  it." 
181 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

It  was  the  Frenchman's  turn  to  be 
surprised. 

"Misguided!"  he  cried,  seizing  his 
cousin's  hand.  "Why,  sir,  he  put  a 
breath  of  insult  upon  an  angel." 

"Tut!  tut!  my  boy,"  answered  Sir 
Henry,  hastily.  "  'Twas  but  a  lovers' 
quarrel,  and,  since  no  great  harm  came 
of  it,  I  can  the  more  rejoice,  for  it 
showed  you  can't  hurt  the  old  stock. 
You  can't  ruin  a  Percy,  even  if  you  make 
him  a  Frenchman.  That's  why  I  am 
glad."  And  he  slapped  the  dancing- 
master  on  the  shoulder  right  heartily. 

St.  Croix  was  not  so  enthusiastic. 
"Harm  enough  for  me,"  he  said.  "Sir 
John  dead,  I  am  to  be  hanged." 

The  squire  only  laughed  delightedly. 

"No,  no!"  he  cried.  "Your  sword 
passed  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his 
neck.  The  hilt  struck  him  in  the  face 
and  knocked  him  senseless.  Zounds, 
man,  you  did  thrust  hard!  But  now 
182 


THE     PERCY     WAITING-CHAMBER 

John  is  not  much  the  worse  and  able  to 
be  about  with  his  neck  bound  up  and  a 
splitting  head.  And,  as  for  me"  —  he 
paused  to  poke  Dubarre  in  the  ribs 
slyly — "I've  come  to  get  you  out  of 
this." 

To  hold  a  chance  for  life  before  a  man 
condemned  to  certain  death  is  danger- 
ous. Even  the  hardened  "French  Per- 
cy" gave  a  great  gasp  of  joy. 

"Me,  free!  Ah,  monsieur — cousin — 
I  do  not  understand,"  he  cried. 

Sir  Henry  was  himself  affected.  "It 
means,"  he  blurted,  huskily,  "I  could 
not  let  so  plucky  a  Percy  hang.  Even 
if  he  is  part  Frenchman  by  birth,  he 
must  be  a  Percy  true  to  run  such  risks 
to  see  his  family  home.  And  Captain 
Thorncliffe  set  the  other  story  straight." 

Then  the  old  squire  went  on  to  tell  how 
Captain  Thorncliffe  had  explained  that 
May's  woman-wit  saw  through  the  dis- 
guise of  her  cousin;  that  she  came  to 
183 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

warn  him,  and  was  near  to  being  caught, 
and,  only  to  save  him,  had  hidden  in  the 
clock. 

"It  must  have  been  sport  for  you," 
roared  Sir  Henry,  finishing. 

"It  was,"  answered  his  French  rela- 
tive, dryly.  Then  he  came  back  to  the 
main  subject.  "But,  Cousin  Henry, 
how  am  I  to  get  away?" 

"Trust  me,  my  boy,"  laughed  the 
squire.  "We  are  guarding  the  door  by 
turns — Thorncliffe,  John,  and  I.  I  am 
on  from  nine  to  ten  o'clock  to-night. 
The  soldiers  who  have  been  sent  for  can- 
not reach  here  before  midnight.  On 
my  watch,  I  Will  leave  the  bar  .up. 
About  half -past  the  hour  you  will 
hear  me  sing.  Then  slip  out.  Strike 
me,  but  not  too  hard,  and  I'll  fall 
senseless  and  so  remain  for  half  an 
hour." 

The  eyes  of  the  Vicomte  de  St.  Croix 
sparkled.  At  the  chance  for  life  he  was 
184 


THE     PERCY     WAITING-CHAMBER 

again  "French  Percy,"  daring  and  reck- 
less. 

"Can  I  procure  a  horse?"  he  asked, 
eagerly. 

Sir  Henry  nodded.  "My  own  pet 
hunter  will  be  waiting  near  the  lodge 
gate,  a  long  cloak  on  the  saddle,  pistols 
and  a  dagger  in  the  holsters.  Then" — 
he  held  out  his  hand — "run,  my  boy. 
God  bless  you! — you're  a  Percy,  every 
inch  of  you."  The  squire's  voice  was 
suspiciously  husky,  and  he  blew  hist 
nose  hard.  He  turned  and  had  almost 
reached  the  door  when  the  young  noble- 
man called  him. 

"But,  cousin,  what  of  mademoiselle — 
my  cousin  May?" 

Sir  Henry  scratched  his  head  in  per- 
plexity, then  his  face  brightened. 

"Why,  if  you  leave  an  address,  she 
shall  write  you  an  invitation  to  the  wed- 
ding." 

"But  could  I  not  see  her,  thank  -her, 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


say  farewell?"  begged  St.  Croix,  his  soul 
in  his  words. 

The  other  shook  his  head.  "Not 
easily,  but  I  can  take  a  message  of  fare- 
well." 

"Not  farewell,  but  au  revoir,"  an- 
swered the  French  cousin,  smiling.  Mis- 
tress Percy's  father  was  more  puzzled 
than  ever. 

"What?"  he  asked. 

The  prisoner  drew  himself  up  and 
spoke  very  slowly. 

"A  St.  Croix  would  reunite  the  Percys, 
cousin."  And  his  meaning  was  very 
clear. 

For  a  full  minute  Sir  Henry  looked 
only  blank.  Then  gradually  the  as- 
tounding proposition  sifted  through  into 
his  consciousness.  An  offer  of  marriage 
from  a  Frenchman !  His  honest  Eng- 
lish heart  blazed  fierce  anger  at  the 
insult. 

Furiously  he  strode  up  to  St.  Croix 
186 


THE      PERCY     WAITING-CHAMBER 

and  shook  his  fist  in  the  face  of  that  as- 
tonished young  man.  "You  insolent 
puppy — you  damned  renegade!  Love 
my  daughter — my  May!  What  do  you 
mean?" 

"And  she  loves  me,  I'll  swear  it,"  was 
the  quick  retort;  for  this  bit  of  Eng- 
lish steel,  tempered  in  French  fire, 
seemed  not  to  fear  the  hottest  blast  of 
British  rage. 

"Damn  you,  you  low  bravo!"  roared 
Sir  Henry. 

The  other  corrected  him  very  quietly. 
"You  forget,  cousin,  I'm  a  Percy,  too. 
My  blood's  as  proud  as  yours.  My 
mother  was  of  the  older  branch.  There's 
no  taint  in  the  St.  Croix  line." 

Sir  Henry  tried  vainly  to  emulate  his 
calmness. 

"By  God  eternal!  I'm  glad  you  told 

me,"  he  blurted;  then,  rage-swept,  he 

continued,  furiously:  "Do  you  think  I'd 

let  her  marry  you,  a  traitor  outcast,  an 

187 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

enemy  to  the  king  —  you,  who  have 
English  blood  on  your  hands  —  you,  a 
spy,  a  thief,  who  stole  over  here  from 
France,  plotting  to  rob  me  of  my  dear- 
est treasure?  But  you'll  never  get  her, 
for  you'll  be  dead  before  she's  mar- 
ried." 

"Ay,  that  I  will  before  she  marries 
Wilmerding,"  interrupted  St.  Croix,  an- 
grily. 

Sir  Henry  had  at  last  secured  reason- 
able calmness. 

"Right  you  are,"  he  sneered.  "I'll 
have  my  friend  the  bishop  over  from 
Sir  Harvey  Johnston's  to  -  morrow. 
Hanged  you'll  be,  and  we'll  marry 
her  to  her  true  lover  the  day  after.1' 

And  with  that  parting  shot  the  raging 
squire  pounded  on  the  door  to  be  let 
out. 

Utterly  dejected,  St.  Croix  threw  him- 
self in  the  only  chair  the  Waiting-Cham- 
ber afforded.  Without,  he  could  hear 
188 


THE     PERCY     WAITING-CHAMBER 

the  sound  of  the  heavy  bar  falling  into 
place  and  the  loud  voice  of  Sir  Henry 
admonishing  Captain  Thorncliffe  to 
"watch  that  damned  cut-throat  French- 
man close." 


XIII 

THE    PRICE    OF    A    MAN 

into  uttermost  despair,  St. 
Croix  did  not  hear  a  modest  knock 
upon  his  prison  door.  Again  the  knock 
was  repeated,  and  the  Frenchman 
looked  up. 

"Well,  do  you  think  I'm  out?"  he 
called,  impatiently.  Then  the  bar  was 
raised,  the  door  opened  slightly,  and 
Captain  Thorncliffe's  head  appeared. 

"May  I  come  in,  Colonel  Latapie?" 

"Have  I  any  choice,  monsieur?"  the 
prisoner  retorted,  sarcastically.  The 
Englishman's  face  hardened. 

"Certainly  I  would  not  intrude  if 
possible  to  avoid  it,  sir,"  he  said, 


190 


THE     PRICE     OF     A     MAN 


Instantly,  stung  at  his  rudeness  to 
the  man  who,  so  far  as  he  could  honor- 
ably, had  befriended  him,  the  generous 
Frenchman  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Pardon,  monsieur  —  pardon,"  he 
cried.  "A  soldier  should  always  be 
glad  to  welcome  a  brother  soldier.  It 
felicitates  me  to  greet  Captain  Thorn- 
cliffe." 

Now  the  captain  entered  smiling. 

"  I  feel  I  bring  my  welcome  with  me," 
he  said,  "as  I  am  but  the  courier  for 
your  dinner.  You  must  pardon  the 
delay,  Colonel  Latapie,  but  the  events 
of  the  morning  quite  drove  the  thought 
of  eating  from  our  minds." 

St.  Croix  bowed.  "I  hope  I've  not 
caused  you  inconvenience,  captain." 

The  Englishman  smiled.  "Do  you 
remember  a  misty  dawn  at  a  certain 
outpost  in  the  Spanish  Hills,  colonel, 
and  how  a  returned  soldier  of  the 
86th  Foot  left  the  camp?" 
191 


~4 
A 


1 
<r<s 


THE      CASTLE     COMEDY 

"And  you  were  that  lieutenant!" 
exclaimed  St.  Croix,  joyfully. 

Then,  in  the  eloquent  silence  that 
followed,  Frenchman  and  Englishman, 
victor  and  defeated  in  that  old  outpost 
duel,  with  hands  tight-clasped,  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes. 

"I  always  hoped  he  was  but  slightly 
hurt — the  man  who  told  them  not  to 
fire,"  said  the  Frenchman  at  last. 

"And  ever  since  that  morning  I've 
wished  to  meet  again  the  coolest  fight- 
er I  ever  saw,"  replied  the  generous 
Englishman — "the  man  who  held  my 
life  and  let  me  go  with  but  a  trifling 
wound.  I  owe  you  something."  Then, 
being  English,  he  swallowed  all  his  feel- 
ings to  blurt  out  suddenly,  "Where  are 
those  girls?" 

"Girls!"  exclaimed  St.  Croix,  trying 
hard  to  keep  the  joy  out  of  his  voice. 

"Why,  yes,  your  cousin  and  Mistress 
Courtleigh.  They've  prepared  your  din- 
192 


THE     PRICE     OF     A     MAN 


ner  with  their  own  hands,  and  have  been 
waiting  an  hour  till  Sir  Henry  should  get 
out  of  the  way  to  bring  it  to  you." 

Even  as  the  captain  spoke,  May  Percy 
and  Mistress  Courtleigh  appeared  at  the 
door,  carrying  a  basket  large  enough  to 
hold  dinner  for  half  a  company. 

"May  we  come  in,  captain?"  asked 
Mistress  Courtleigh,  gayly.  The  pris- 
oner sprang  towards  them.  May  Percy 
let  go  one  half  the  basket  and  stood 
looking  at  St.  Croix. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  began. 

"Cousin,  if  you  please,"  she  corrected 
him,  and  tried  to  look  archness  from 
misty  eyes. 

"Cousin — :May."  And  at  the  tone 
Captain  Thorncliffe  and  Mistress  Court- 
leigh looked  quickly  off,  for  it  was  as 
though  the  two  were  alone  and  all 
others  thousands  of  miles  away.  For 
the  first  time  Captain  Thorncliffe 
developed  diplomacy. 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


"Come,  come,  Mistress  Courtleigh," 
he  cried,  "it's  against  all  prison  rules  for 
more  than  one  visitor  to  be  in  this  room 
at  a  time.  I  must  ask  you  to  step 
outside." 

"What  dreadful,  dreadful  rules,  cap- 
tain!" answered  the  girl,  in  mock  re- 
bellion, as,  dropping  her  basket,  she 
hurried  for  the  door. 

"They  are  necessary  with  desperate 
cut-throats,"  replied  the  captain,  stiffly, 
bowing  her  out.  Then  he  turned,  all 
military,  to  Mistress  Percy.  "If  you 
need  me,"  he  said,  "or  the  prisoner 
becomes  violent,  call." 

A  moment  more  and  the  pair  within 
the  room  heard  the  bar  without  fall  into 
place.  Quickly  May  Percy  turned  with 
shy,  sweet  impulsiveness  to  St.  Croix, 
holding  out  both  her  hands  "Now — 
now  I  can  thank  you,  cousin." 

He  seized  her  hands  and  bent  over  to 
kiss  them  fervidly. 

194 


THE     PRICE     OF     A     MAN 

"Ah,  mademoiselle — cousin — "  and 
his  voice  shook.  "You  always  so  over- 
pay a  service."  He  was  standing  close 
beside  her,  still  holding  her  hands. 

"But  your  life!"  she  cried.  "You 
risked  that  for  me !  Even  now,  because 
of  me,  you  stand  in  the  shadow  of  an 
outrageous  death.  Oh!"  She  drew  her 
hands  away  from  him  and  began  to  walk 
up  and  down  the  room  hurriedly.  "I 
can't  think  of  it!  I  must  get  you  out 
some  way.  It's  for  that  I  am  here — 
to  help  you  back  to  France,  to  those 
you  love  and  who  love  you  and  ap- 
preciate you." 

"Mademoiselle."  At  his  tone  she 
paused,  facing  him.  St.  Croix  came  very 
close  to  her  before  he  spoke,  slowly, 
meaningly. 

"If  all  who  love  me  are  in  France — 
then,  indeed,  it  was  a  useless  throw." 

She  tried  to  get  away  from  the  love 
in  his  eyes,  and  could  not.  Then  a  great 
195 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


heart -leap  of  joy  sent  crimson  rushing 
to  her  cheeks;  her  bosom  rose  and  fell 
quickly,  her  eyes  softened. 

"You  do — you  mean — "she  murmured. 

St.  Croix  only  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  held  her  close,  so  close  that  she 
could  just  hear  his  half- whisper — "That 
gallows — death — hereafter — are  as  noth- 
ing if  le  bon  Dieu  but  speak  his  message 
of  perfect  love  through  you,  madem- 
oiselle." 

Once  she  looked  up  and  her  eyes  in- 
vited him.  Slowly  his  head  bent  down. 

"  My  life  for  this,"  he  murmured,  and 
their  lips  met.  In  a  moment  he  raised 
his  head.  "And,  oh,  how  cheap!"  said 
St.  Croix. 

"Gaston!  Gaston!"  May  Percy's 
arms  were  about  his  neck,  and  she  was 
kissing  him  convulsively  between  little 
sobs  and  murmurings  of  love. 

A  hurried  knocking  at  the  door 
dropped  them  from  heaven  to  earth 
196 


THE     PRICE     OF     A     MAN 

again.  The  lovers  sprang  apart.  May 
Percy  rushed  to  the  table.  Dubarre 
brought  the  basket,  and  between  them 
they  began  setting  out  the  lunch.  The 
bar  without  was  raised,  the  door  shot 
open,  and  Mistress  Courtleigh,  her  eyes 
dancing  from  excitement,  rushed  into 
the  room.  She  came  to  wreck  the 
lovers'  paradise  —  to  tell  them  that 
their  time  was  up,  for  Sir  John  Wil- 
merding  would  come  on  guard  in  five 
minutes. 

"Have  you  shown  him  what  you 
came  for,  May?"  she  asked;  and  then, 
seeing  the  girl  smiling,  trembling,  blush- 
ing, Mistress  Courtleigh  understood  that 
the  reason  for  their  coming  among  other 
things  had  been  forgotten. 

"Quick!"  she  commanded,  and  May 
Percy  ran  to  the  right-hand  wall.  St. 
Croix  sprang  after.  Turning  her  back 
sympathetically,  Mistress  Courtleigh 
made  a  great  ado  at  setting  out  the 
197 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

dishes  upon  the  table.  May  Percy  was 
fumbling  at  a  panel  in  the  wall. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  St.  Croix,  eagerly. 

"A  secret  way!"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh 
— Where's  that  spring?  I've  known  it 
since  a  child.  Oh,  that  catch!"  She 
was  fumbling  all  over  the  panel  ex- 
citedly. 

"Quick!  quick!"  cried  Mistress  Court- 
leigh  from  the  table  as  there  came  a 
warning  knock  at  the  door. 

"Does  Captain  Thorncliffe  know?" 
questioned  St.  Croix. 

"  No,  but  at  heart  he'll  be  glad.  Oh, 
here  it  is!"  Mistress  Percy  cried  out,  joy- 
fully, as  she  touched  a  spring  and  a 
small  door  slid  back. 

"It's  dark  enough,"  smiled  her  lover, 
sniffing  at  the  dank  smell  that  came  out 
through  the  narrow  patch  of  blackness. 

"Yes,  and  small,"  continued  May 
Percy.  "Part  of  the  way  you  must 
crawl.  I've  been  through.  It  comes 
198 


THE     PRICE     OF     A     MAN 

out  at  a  big  oak  near  the  little  lodge — 
our  lodge,  you  know." 

St.  Croix  nodded. 

"Do  hurry!"  cried  Ethel  Courtleigh, 
interrupting,  for  the  door  rattled  a 
second  warning  of  danger  near  at 
hand. 

May  Percy  took  up  her  explanation, 
speaking  very  fast.  "Wait  until  you 
hear  me  talking  to  my  father  outside  the 
door  at  nine  o'clock — then  try  it.  I'll 
have  my  mare  Nellie  tied  behind  the 
lodge.  Then — then — "  Her  arms  stole 
about  his  neck,  a  look  and  one  word  end- 
ed it — "Sweetheart." 

He  held  her  to  him,  and  straightway 
they  seemed  to  forget  all  else.  Now  he 
spoke  low: 

"Do  you  think,  dear,  I  can  touch 
heaven  and  lose  it?  There  must  be  two 
horses.  Nellie  could  not  carry  us  both. 
We'll  meet  the  ship  at  midnight — the 
priest  an  hour  before." 
199 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"But,  Gaston,"  she  murmured,  pro- 
testingly. 

He  kissed  her  hair  and  her  eyes  before 
he  spoke. 

"Together,  sweetheart,  from  this  time 
forward.  Here  or  there?" 

4 '  There !  there ! ' '  she  cried,  impulsively. 

"Then  in  the  hut  at  nine,"  and,  as 
though  in  answer  to  his  words,  a  shadow 
— the  shadow  of  Sir  John  Wilmerding — 
crossed  the  stained-glass  window.  With- 
in the  room  they  could  hear  Captain 
Thorncliffe  ask: 

"What  brought  you  out  so  soon, 
Jack?"  And  Wilmerding's  reply: 

"I  feared  that  damned  Frenchman 
might  escape,  Hal.  And  I've  decided 
to  put  my  servant  on  guard  here  and 
stay  in  the  room  with  him  myself.  It's 
best  to  take  no  chances." 

"You  must  go  at  once,"  whispered 
May  Percy.  "Hide  in  the  passage. 
The  panel  can  be  latched  from  within." 
200 


THE     PRICE     OF     A     MAN 

Then  Sir  John,  without,  cried,  alarm- 
ed, "Why,  Hal,  you've  left  the  door 
open!" 

"Au  revoir,  sweetheart!  Nine 
o'clock,"  and  with  a  hasty-snatched 
kiss,  St.  Croix  prepared  to  step  within 
the  passage. 

May  Percy  moved  over  to  the  big  pris- 
on-door. Standing  there  beside  Mistress 
Courtleigh,  she  watched  St.  Croix.  He 
was  watching  her. 

Suddenly,  without  slightest  warning, 
the  big  door  opened,  and  Sir  John  Wil- 
merding  stepped  quickly  in.  One  glance 
showed  all.  Hate  gave  him  wit.  Spring- 
ing to  May  Percy's  side,  he  seized  the 
girl  and  whipped  out  his  short  hunting- 
knife.  Raising  it,  he  cried: 

"Come  back,  you  damned  spy,  or  I 
stab  her!" 


XIV 


A    WIDE-AWAKE    GOVERNMENT 

/CAREFULLY  St.  Croix  stepped  back 
\^4  into  the  room. 

"No!  No!  Goon,  Gaston!"  exclaimed 
Mistress  Percy,  hysterically.  But,  in- 
stead, he  closed  the  panel  after  him  with 
elaborate  attention,  then  turned  and 
bowed  deeply  to  Sir  John. 

"Monsieur  has  the  advantage,"  sneer- 
ed the  Frenchman,  "for  he  fights  with 
weapons  which  are  impossible  for  a  gen- 
tleman to  use."  And  saying  this,  the 
man  thus  brought  suddenly  back  to  face 
a  degrading  death  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders and  strolled  to  the  window,  where 
he  stood  drumming  his  fingers  on  the 
sill  and  straining  his  eyes  against  a 
202 


m 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 

murky  outside  through  blue  -  stained 
glass. 

Sir  John  released  the  girl  and  put  up 
his  knife. 

"I  would  thank  Mistress  Percy,"  he 
said,  "for  her  valuable  assistance  in  pre- 
venting the  escape  of  so  desperate  a 
ruffian.  But  your  father  would  like  to 
see  you.  Will  you  go  to  him?" 

He  might  have  been  a  reptile,  the  girl 
drew  back  from  him  with  such  loathing, 
wiping  her  arm  hard,  as  though  his  mere 
touch  had  defiled  it.  Without  even  a 
look  for  reply,  she  walked  over  and 
leaned  against  the  mantel,  a  beautiful 
picture  of  collapsed  defeat. 

"As  you  will,"  sniffed  Sir  John,  and, 
jaunty  now  in  spite  of  his  bandaged 
throat  and  generally  dilapidated  appear- 
ance, he  strode  over  to  the  panel  to  block 
up  the  only  remaining  way  of  escape. 

But  try  as  he  might,  the  Englishman 
could  not  find  the  secret  spring.  All 
203 


over  the  panel  he  fumbled,  poking  this 
way  and  that  at  every  suspicious  knob 
and  smooth  place,  but  still  the  secret 
point  eluded  his  hardest  efforts.  From 
the  window  St.  Croix  watched  him. 

To  the  Frenchman,  defeated  now  at 
every  turn,  with  his  last  card  of  luck 
played  out,  it  was  the  time  for  utter  de- 
spair. Dejectedly  he  turned  from  Sir 
John  and  started  towards  the  chair  be- 
side the  table  near  the  centre  of  the 
room.  As  he  moved  he  thrust  one  hand 
carelessly  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat — 
that  coat  once  worn  by  Jacques  Fourney, 
the  spy. 

May  Percy,  watching  his  face  as  only 
a  loving  woman  watches,  caught  the 
sudden  lightning  look  of  joy  that  flashed 
upon  it  and  was  as  quickly  gone.  With 
his  eyes  he  told  her  to  come  to  him,  and, 
understanding,  she  began  to  glide  slowly, 
cautiously  towards  the  chair. 

Sir  John,  fumbling  at  the  panel,  saw 
204 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 


none  of  the  by-play.  The  Frenchman 
was  directly  behind  him  now,  still  mov- 
ing towards  the  chair. 

"  I  hope  his  wound  does  not  trouble 
monsieur  extremely,"  ventured  St.  Croix 
over  his  right  shoulder  as  he  edged  away. 
By  this  time  the  girl  was  close  to  him. 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,"  he  exclaimed, 
aloud,  "you  have  dropped  your  hand- 
kerchief— permit  me."  Then,  as  their 
hands  met  over  the  dainty  bit  of  lace, 
the  girl  felt  her  fingers  pressed  with 
sudden  ardor. 

"Trust  me,"  he  whispered  low,  and 
in  a  moment  was  away,  bowing  with 
mere  politeness.  Still,  Sir  John,  angry 
at  being  baffled,  struggled  desperately 
with  the  panel.  Now  the  Frenchman 
was  turned  that  way. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "I  tried  only  to 
disarm  monsieur,  but  he  was  violent, 
and,"  with  his  inimitable  shrug,  "I  was 
forced  to  wound  him  slightly."  The 


20 


CASTLE     COMEDY 


prisoner's  tone  expressed  just  a  passing 
regret  at  having  been  compelled  to 
perform  a  small,  disagreeable  duty. 

"Lying  comes  easy  to  Frenchmen," 
blurted  Sir  John,  at  the  panel. 

"And  one  must  lie  to  catch  a  liar," 
retorted  the  other;  "but — eh  bien!  as 
the  French  say  —  I'm  glad  the  little 
comedy  is  played  out." 

The  Englishman  looked  surprised. 

"Comedy  played  out?"  he  sneered, 
with  British  candor.  "Not  till  you're 
hanged." 

"I  spoke  of  this  comedy,"  said  Du- 
barre,  smiling  with  quiet  amusement, 
sure  in  the  consciousness  of  something 
yet  to  come. 

Sir  John  turned  towards  him,  puzzled 
now. 

"I  don't  see  that  you  have  cause  for 
laughter." 

"Sir  John  does  not  see  everything," 
answered  the  old  dancing-master,  gen- 
206 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 

tly,  "but  it  is  just  as  I  have  said."  He 
unbuttoned  his  coat,  took  from  the  in- 
side pocket  the  newspaper  containing  the 
story  about  "  French  Percy,"  and  held  it 
towards  Sir  John. 

"Will  monsieur  read?  Possibly  this 
may  explain  many  things." 

Wilmerding  came  over  quickly  to  take 
the  paper.  He  stood  beside  the  table 
on  the  Frenchman's  right  to  read  it. 
May  Percy,  eager,  anxious,  had  stolen 
to  his  other  side.  As  Sir  John  read, 
her  eyes  questioned  her  lover's,  but  his 
quick  smile  of  encouragement  told  her 
only  to  be  brave  and  wait. 

Sir  John  looked  up  from  his  reading. 

"Good!  Good!  "he  cried.  "We  Eng- 
lish can  always  fool  you  dull  French 
spies.  The  government  is  awake." 

"And,  as  usual,  when  awake  it  played 

the    fool,"    broke    in   the    Frenchman, 

bitterly.     "This,  now — "   he  took  the 

paper  from  Sir  John.     "'It  is  safe  to 

207 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

wager  that  "  French  Percy  "  will  fail  in 
this,  his  last  desperate  undertaking, 
or,  if  he  should  get  to  the  castle,  will 
certainly  be  captured.  The  place  is 
now  being  watched.' '  The  reader  cast 
the  paper  down  angrily.  "Fools! 
Idiots!  That's  what  spoiled  it." 

"Spoiled  it?"  questioned  Sir  John. 

"Yes,"  blurted  Dubarre,  angry  now 
clear  through — "spoiled  it,  I  said.  Send 
a  man  down  here  to  watch,  then  publish 
such  stuff." 

' '  What's  this  ?  What  do  you  mean ?" 
interrupted  the  slower  Englishman,  while 
even  Mistress  Percy  began  to  show  some 
signs  of  uneasiness. 

"Mean?"  ejaculated  Dubarre.  "I 
mean  that  while  I  fooled  with  a  country 
bumpkin  over  his  pastoral  love  affair, 
because  of  this  paper  'French  Percy' 
slipped  through  my  fingers." 

Sir  John  fell  back  to  gaze  at  him  in 
angry,  blank  amazement.  '"French 
208 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 


Percy'  gone!"  he  blustered.  "All  know 
you  are  the  renegade  himself." 

The  other  had  recovered  his  temper 
by  this  time.  Now  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"Only  when  it  pleased  me.  I'm  no 
more  'French  Percy'  than  I  am  Gaston 
Dubarre."  And  with  his  old  mocking 
laugh  he  looked  at  the  two  astounded 
faces  before  him.  May  Percy  fell  away 
from  him  with  a  little  cry  of  horror. 

"Who?  What?"  was  all  Sir  John 
could  mutter,  stupidly. 

The  self-confessed  stranger  drew  him- 
self up  and  bowed  to  them  both  deeply. 
"Jacques  Fourney,  the  government's 
private  emissary,  at  your  service,"  he 
said. 

' '  Jacques  Fourney !  Wellington's  spy  ? 
Stuff!"  cried  Sir  John. 

Mistress  Percy  looked  for  a  moment 
at  the  Frenchman,  fright  and  amaze- 
ment in  her  eyes,  then  sank  into  the 
14  209 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


c 

\ 


chair  and  buried  her  face  in  her  arms 
upon  the  table.  The  acknowledged  spy 
appeared  nettled.  He  drew  a  small  case 
out  of  his  coat -pocket  and  extracted 
therefrom  a  bit  of  oiled  paper,  which  he 
spread  out  and  offered  to  the  English- 
man. 

"Read  this,  sir,  and  change  your 
mind."  Then  as  Sir  John  glanced  at 
it  he  added,  aloud,  "Mistress  Percy 
might  like  to  hear." 

The  girl  who  had  rested  in  the  man's 
arms  so  few  minutes  before  heard  Sir 
John  read  of  her  lover: 

"This  is  to  certify  that  the  bearer,  Jacques 
Fcmrney,  is  a  faithful,  loyal,  and  highly 
efficient  officer  in  the  British  service.  All 
soldiers  and  loyal  subjects  to  whom  he  may 
appeal  are  hereby  commanded  to  do  every- 
thing in  their  power  to  aid  him  in  whatever 
way  he  may  desire,  especially  in  the  matter 
of  the  capture  of  the  notorious  outlaw  and 
spy  '  French  Percy.'  This  order  is  to  be 
considered  a  pass  through  all  lines,  and  is  to 
serve  as  a  requisition  in  case  anything  is 

2IO 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 

needed  by  the  bearer.  All  soldiers  will  see 
that  it  is  duly  honored.  It  will  be  shown 
only  in  case  of  grave  necessity. 

"WELLINGTON, 
"  General  Commanding." 
***** 

Up  and  down,  back  and  forth  before 
the  door  of  the  Waiting-Chamber  paced 
Captain  Thorncliffe  and  Sir  Henry  Percy, 
laboring  in  earnest  argument. 

"You,  Captain  Thorncliffe,  you  have 
fought  the  French,  you  have  bled  for 
England;  yet  you  give  such  counsel — 
I  cannot  understand  it." 

Captain  Thorncliffe  dropped  his  hand 
with  light  touch  on  the  old  baronet's 
arm  before  replying,  seriously.  "And 
believe  me,  Sir  Henry,  that  is  the  very 
reason  I  advise  you  to  permit  his  escape. 
The  fighters  are  not  the  haters,  Sir 
Henry." 

The  older  one  shook  off  the  restraining 
hand  angrily. 

"But,"    he    protested,     "this    man 

211 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


humbled  you  and  the  British  arms  in 
outrageous  fashion.  Do  you  forget  the 
stealing  of  the  headquarters  papers 
that  early  morning  in  the  Spanish  pass?" 

On  the  instant  flashed  back  the 
soldier's  question.  "When  came  it  the 
part  of  an  English  gentleman  to  bear 
malice  against  a  gallant  enemy?" 

Sir  Henry's  face  grew  hard  at  the 
rebuke.  His  hands  began  to  clinch 
and  unclinch  rapidly.  He  was  working 
fast  into  a  characteristic  rage. 

"Your  duty,  Captain  Thorncliffe— " 

"Will  be  in  no  wise  evaded  by 
letting  this  man  go,"  broke  in  the 
soldier. 

"He  is  counted  one  of  the  dangerous 
men  in  the  French  army." 

"He  is  your  cousin,  a  brave  gentle- 
man, here  on  private  business,  and 
practically  your  guest,"  was  the  retort. 

"He  is  an  enemy  to  England,  the 
minion  of  the  Corsican  hell -spawn, 
212 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 

and  practically  a  spy.  Don't  presume 
to  teach  me  my  duty,  sir,"  roared  the 
head  of  the  Percys,  advancing  with 
threatening  fist  upon  the  soldier.  But 
the  man  who  had  stood  before  the 
French  Percy's  sword  did  not  fear  the 
English  one's  anger.  Instead,  calm, 
contemptuous,  accusing,  he  faced  the 
old  man  down. 

"Your  cousin  disclosed  himself  to  de- 
fend your  daughter's  honor,  Sir  Henry 
Percy ;  and  that  done,  he  fought  no  more, 
though  he  might  easily  have  gotten 
away.  You  seem  to  have  forgotten 
that." 

Sir  Henry  stood  silent,  overwhelmed 
with  argument,  too  angry  for  coherent 
speech.  With  increase  of  the  Percy 
stubbornness,  Thorn cliffe's  temper  had 
been  rising  steadily,  but  now,  fighting 
hard,  he  kept  sufficient  self-control  to 
resume  his  quiet,  convincing  argument. 
He  knew  that  behind  that  door  he  guard- 
213 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

ed,  two  men,  his  friends,  enemies  to  the 
death,  faced  each  other  before  the  wom- 
an they  both  loved.  The  door  of  heavy 
oak  let  through  no  sound.  What  was 
going  forward  within  he  could  but  sur- 
mise, only  he  knew  there  would  be  a 
tragedy  should  Sir  Henry  Percy  in  his 
present  mood  cross  the  threshold  or 
any  one  from  within  come  forth.  And 
so,  for  the  life  of  a  brave  enemy  he  had 
come  to  love,  the  gallant  English  gentle- 
man fought  hard  with  his  friends. 

"Sir  Henry  " — the  question  came  forth 
sharp  and  straight — "if  Colonel  Latapie 
were  not  in  love  with  your  daughter, 
would  you  wish  to  see  him  meet  a  felon's 
end?" 

That  shot  struck  home.  The  father's 
eyes  opened  wide. 

"  By  my  soul,  Captain  Thorncliffe,  you 
take  strange  liberties!" 

The  soldier  -  diplomat  went   on,  un- 
heeding the  interruption: 
214 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 

"And  yet  he  is  a  brave  gentleman,  and 
asked  you  for  her  fairly." 

"  Sir,  I'll—  How  do  you  know  that?" 
roared  Sir  Henry,  taken  quite  off  his 
guard. 

Thorncliffe  tried  hard  not  to  show  his 
triumph. 

"Because,"  he  said,  simply,  "Latapie 
is  a  French  officer  and  a  Percy.  Be- 
sides, a  man  does  not  often  throw  away 
his  life  needlessly  for  a  woman  he  does 
not  love.  And — and" — as  he  said  this 
the  pleader  watched  the  old  baronet 
carefully — "she  loves  him  much,  Sir 
Henry." 

Mistress  Percy's  father  fairly  exploded 
in  rage  and  sorrow. 

' '  What  —  what  —  my  daughter  —  my 
little  May  —  marry  a  Frenchman,  a 
damned  Johnny  Crepaud,  a  frog-eater? 
Yes — yes — that  is  what  the  scoundrel 
asked  me.  I'll  own  up,  Thorncliffe.  I 
had  decided  to  allow  him  to  escape  be- 
215 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

cause — because  he  is  such  a  gallant  ras- 
cal, and — and" — with  a  burst  of  family 
pride — "after  all,  he  is  a  Percy.  You 
can't  hurt  the  old  stock,  Thorncliffe, 
even  with  the  weakening  strain  of  the 
damned  French  blood.  But  marry  May 
— my  little  May — take  my  only  child 
over  the  water?  Not  that,  Thorncliffe, 
not  that.  No  one  could  ask  that."  The 
stern  old  voice  trembled  and  broke. 

A  lump  in  his  own  throat,  the  soldier 
ventured  to  put  his  hand  again,  this  time 
almost  affectionately,  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  older  man. 

"But  why,  old  friend,"  he  questioned, 
gently,  "merely  because  your  cousin 
loves  your  daughter,  should  you  let  the 
hangman's  noose  dangle  over  one  branch 
of  your  family-tree  ?  Is  that  quite  f air  ? " 

The  head  of  the  house  laughed  aloud 
in  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling. 

"I  was  mad,  Thorncliffe — mad!"  he 
cried.  "The  boy  is  a  Percy.  That 
216 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 

was  the  reason.  Do  you  think  a  Percy 
would  give  her  up  while  he  lives?" 

Thorncliffe  took  a  turn  along  the 
little  passage  and  back  again.  It  was 
the  life  of  a  brave  man  he  wanted.  The 
Frenchman  must  look  out  for  his  own 
love  affairs,  and,  besides,  his  latent  racial 
prejudice  made  the  soldier  feel  there  was 
some  justice  in  the  father's  words.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  pleader's  next  question 
was  put  carefully. 

"Suppose — suppose,  Sir  Henry,  Mis- 
tress May  should  marry  Wilmerding? 
The  Percys  have  two  qualities — cour- 
age and  honor.  Your  French  cousin 
has  proven  that  he  possesses  both. 
Marry  her  to  Wilmerding  to-night." 

"To-night?"  murmured  Sir  Henry, 
blankly.  "  I  told  him,  Dubarre,  Percy, 
that,  but  I  did  not  mean  it.  To- 
night—" 

"To-night,"  insisted  Thorncliffe.  " It 
must  be  to  -  night.  The  soldiers  you 


21' 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


sent  for  should  be  here  now.  Besides,  I 
recognized  Wellington's  spy,  Fourney, 
in  one  of  your  French  visitors  yester- 
day. Now  I  know  why  he  was  here. 
Marry  her  to  Wilmerding  to-night,  for 
not  until  she  is  married  will  the  French 
Percy  leave  England.  She  will  be  safe 
from  him  then — and — God  help  her!" 
muttered  the  soldier. 

Sir  Henry  Percy  drew  a  long  breath 
of  relief,  then,  with  sudden  feeling, 
gripped  the  soldier's  hands  impulsively. 

"Thank  you,  Thorncliffe — thank  you. 
You  have  kept  me  worthy  of  my  name. 
I'll  start  for  Sir  Harvey  Johnston's  at 
once  and  drive  over  to-night  with  the 
bishop.  You — ah — you" — with  a  wise 
nod — "you  arrange  things.  And — may 
the  good  God  speed  the  boy!"  he  ended, 

softly  - 

***** 

Within    the    Waiting  -  Chamber    the 
self-confessed  spy  stood  laughing  with 
218 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 

cynical  contempt  at  the  girl  he  had  won 
and  the  man  he  had  conquered.  Mis- 
tress Percy,  the  proud  gentlewoman, 
overcome  at  the  disclosure  of  her  lover, 
still  sat  beside  the  table,  her  face  buried 
in  her  arms.  Once  she  had  looked  up, 
but  the  sight  of  the  contemptuous, 
sneering  face  of  the  spy  bitterly  bait- 
ing Sir  John  Wilmerding  quickly  brought 
her  head  down  again. 

The  gentleman  in  disguise  the  girl 
had  loved.  Her  hero  cousin  of  Napo- 
leon's guard,  risking,  his  life  gayly  in  a 
gallant  adventure,  and  offering  it  gladly 
for  her,  she  had  adored.  But  this  spy, 
by  his  own  statement — this  sneak,  who 
laughingly  confessed  to  trailing  her  hero 
cousin  for  blood-money  and  loudly  re- 
gretted fighting  for  her  because  it  might 
have  cost  him  the  price  of  French  Per- 
cy's life — she  shrank  from  him  in  horror. 
Now  at  the  thought  of  his  kisses,  at  his 
every  speech,  the  proud  girl  writhed  with 
219 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

shame  and  loathing.  There  could  be 
no  mistake.  She  felt  sure  of  that  now, 
for  not  even  the  reckless,  desperate 
French  Percy  could  have  dared  the 
risk  she  had  heard  this  man  boastingly 
take. 

"I've  fooled  too  long  already  with  a 
country  bumpkin  over  his  pastoral  love 
affairs.  Call  Captain  Thorncliffe — he 
will  identify  Wellington's  own  hand.  A 
nice  thing  it  would  be  to  report  to  the 
commander-in-chief  that  the  asinine 
stupidity  of  a  county  militia  officer  al- 
lowed the  most  dangerous  scout  in  the 
French  army  to  slip  through  our  fin- 
gers." 

"By  God!"  roared  Wilmerding,  fin- 
gering his  pistol,  "if  it  were  not  for  the 
slight  chance  I'd  kill  you  now." 

The  spy  laughed  in  his  face. 

"And  be  hanged  for  it  later.  But  I 
tell  you  the  little  chap  of  the  pair  here 
yesterday,  the  one  with  the  gray  eyes, 

220 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 


was  St.  Croix.  Now" — impatiently — 
"call  Thorncliffe." 

Sir  John  walked  over  to  the  big  door 
and  knocked,  and  as  he  did  so  the  spy 
stepped  suddenly  close  to  the  table. 

"Mistress  Percy — " 

A  last  unacknowledged  hope  shining 
in  her  eyes,  she  looked  up. 

"I'm  sorry  for  the  part  I  had  to  play 
with  you — " 

A  gasp,  and  the  dark  head  sank  again 
as  the  girl  burst  into  shuddering  sobs. 

"Come,  Hal,  come.  And  you,  too,  Sir 
Henry.  Come  block  this  French  trick- 
ster's last  game.  The  scoundrel  claims 
now  to  be  not  St.  Croix  at  all,  but  some 
damned  spy,  Fourney.  See — see  the 
pass  he  has  forged  or  stolen."  And  Sir 
John  Wilmerding,  at  the  door,  thrust  the 
paper  into  the  hands  of  the  astonished 
Captain  Thorncliffe. 

Dumb  from  amazement,  Sir  Henry 
Percy  followed  Captain  Thorncliffe  into 

221 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


the  room.  At  the  sight  of  his  daughter 
sobbing  over  the  table,  the  old  baronet 
was  about  to  cry  out,  but  the  soldier, 
with  a  quick,  warning  grasp,  restrained 
him.  Smiling  and  easy,  the  spy  bowed 
to  them. 

"What's  this?  What  do  you  mean? 
Who  the  devil  are  you,  anyhow?" 
blurted  Sir  Henry. 

The  prisoner  bowed  jauntily  a  second 
time. 

"As  my  pass  reads — Jacques  Four- 
ney,  Wellington's  spy,  at  your  service. 
Captain  Thorncliffe  should  know  that 
signature." 

After  one  glance  at  the  self-confessed 
Fourney  the  soldier  had  given  all  his 
attention  to  the  pass.  Now  he  looked 
up. 

"It's  genuine,"  he  said.  "There  can 
be  no  doubt  of  that." 

"And  stolen,  too,  I  wager,"  broke  in 
Wilmerding,  angrily. 
222 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 


"Tis  scarcely  possible,  Jack.  I  saw 
this  pass  written  in  Spain.  I  recognize 
it  by  a  crossed-out  word." 

"And  this  fellow  is — "  gasped  Wil- 
merding. 

"He  must  be  Fourney." 

For  quite  a  minute  no  one  moved. 
The  spy  looked  straight  into  the  eyes 
of  Thorncliffe  and  Thorncliffe  straight 
into  the  eyes  of  the  spy.  But  what 
each  saw  in  the  other  was  for  those  two 
only.  Then,  impulsively,  the  French- 
man thrust  out  his  hand. 

"Monsieur — captain — " 

Thorncliffe  turned  his  back. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  slowly,  "your 
trail,  Fourney,  leads  towards  France. 
Sir  Henry  Percy,  in  accordance  with 
that  pass,  will  give  you  a  horse.  You 
may  catch  your  man  before  he  reaches 
the  sea-coast." 

With  the  first  sound  of  her  father's 
voice  Mistress  May  had  sprung  to  her 
223 


<r*A 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

feet.  The  Percy  pride,  strong  in  all 
the  line,  leaped  to  her  rescue.  Through- 
out Thorncliffe's  identification  of  the 
spy  she  stood  straight,  with  head  held 
high,  facing  her  father,  and  although 
now  and  then  her  hands  at  her  sides 
moved  nervously,  and  at  the  end  her 
mouth  was  trembling,  yet  the  big  black 
eyes  throughout  showed  brave  and 
firm. 

"Dad,"  she  began,  and  just  at  first 
the  trembling  mouth  made  the  tones  to 
shake  ever  so  slightly,  though  the  look 
remained  steadfast  —  "dad,  you  must 
be  surprised  to  see  me  here.  I  want  to 
confess  something  to  you,  dad.  I  came 
because  I  thought  that  man  —  that 
spy — my  cousin  from  France.  And — and 
— dad,  I  loved  him.  If  he  had  been 
my  cousin  St.  Croix,  dad" — and  now  her 
voice  was  proud  and  full  —  "nothing 
could  have  kept  me  from  marrying  him. 
But  a  Percy  can't  love  a  blood-money 
224 


A     WIDE-AWAKE     GOVERNMENT 


spy,  dad,  and  if  you  and  John  will  for- 
give me — I'll — I'll — "  she  ended  it  in  a 
wild  jumble  of  words  and  tears — "I'll 
marry  John  any  time  you  say." 

From  Sir  Henry  there  burst  a  great, 
rushing  sigh  of  relief. 

"Then  to-morrow  it  is,  coz,"  he  cried, 
gathering  the  sobbing  girl  in  his  arms. 
"I'll  bring  the  bishop  over  from  Sir 
Harvey's  to-night;  and  your  old  dad's 
the  happiest  man  in  England." 

Without  so  much  as  a  glance  at  the 
father  and  daughter,  or  at  the  man  who 
had  won  the  girl  he  loved,  the  spy  turned 
and  walked  from  the  room;  and  as  he 
passed  Captain  Thorncliffe  he  muttered, 
"Merci,  monsieur,  but  I  had  rather  you 
had  not  so  paid  that  little  debt." 
15 


XV 

JACK  PERCY'S  GRANDSON 

i 
"/^»ERTAINLY  it  is  most  irregular," 

\^.j  objected  the  bishop. 

The  masked  highwayman  waved  his 
big  pistol  with  a  careless,  deprecating 
gesture  that  sent  a  cold  shiver  racing 
to  the  very  gouty  toes  of  the  fat  prelate 
in  the  coach. 

"But,  worshipful  sir,  when  a  priest 
is  so  hard  to  meet,  what  is  a  poor  devil 
of  an  outlaw  bent  on  matrimony  to  do  ? 
Jack  Ketch  can't  tie  that  knot." 

Sir  Henry  Percy,  seated  beside  my 
lord  bishop  in  the  coach,  gave  an 
involuntary  snort  of  laughter  at  the 
armed  highwayman's  apologetic  speech. 
With  the  robber's  first  dash  from  the 
226 


JACK     PERCY  S     GRANDSON 

dark  shadows  of  the  overhanging  elms 
beside  the  road  Sir  Henry  had  tried  his 
pistols.  The  caps  sputtered,  but  no 
balls  came.  "Damned  powder  wet!" 
exclaimed  the  baronet;  then,  realizing 
his  helplessness,  resigned  himself  to  what 
must  come. 

When,  the  post  -  boys  having  been 
knocked  from  their  horses,  the  high- 
wayman, in  a  hoarse  voice,  demanded 
not  money  but  a  simple  exercise  of  the 
bishop's  churchly  office,  the  good 
baronet  chuckled  loud  in  his  surprise 
and  delight.  Was  not  the  bishop  even 
then  on  his  way  to  the  castle  to  marry 
Mistress  May  Percy  to  Sir  John  Wil- 
merding.  One  extra  ceremony  thrown 
in  on  the  side  could  not  hurt.  Rather 
it  would  be  just  a  breather  to  get  the 
prelate  in  good  trim  for  the  big  wedding 
to  follow  in  the  morning.  The  bishop 
knew  the  service  by  heart,  of  course,  and 
it  would  take  little  time.  Sir  Henry 
227 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


\ 


had  been  a  gay  dog  in  his  day,  and  the 
present  adventure  pleased  him  mightily. 
So,  supremely  content  at  the  promised 
successful  outcome  of  his  own  little 
schemes,  the  squire  urged  the  bishop  to 
quickness. 

"It  can  do  no  harm,  and  perhaps  it 
may  do  good,"  he  said.  "Some  wench's 
honor  this  may  save,  my  lord.  The 
fellow  must  be  a  good  kind  even  to 
want  the  ceremony." 

My  lord  bishop  looked  two  ways 
along  the  dark  road  for  help  that  came 
not.  He  looked  up  to  catch,  between 
drifting  clouds,  a  million  stars  winking 
slyly  at  one  another,  while  the  jovial  old 
moon — the  lovers'  friend — had  hidden 
himself  to  laugh  at  Cupid's  victory. 
The  wind  had  whispered  the  joke  to  the 
trees,  and  the  very  elms  seemed  shaking 
with  laughter  at  his  discomfiture. 

"Come,  come,  sir!"  And  now  the 
outlaw's  tone  bore  sharp  command. 
228 


JACK     PERCY  S     GRANDSON 

He  put  his  horse  beside  the  coach,  and, 
thrusting  an  arm  through  the  window, 
brought  the  big  pistol  very  close  to  the 
bishop's  head. 

"My  lord,  we  are  wasting  time." 

Then  he  who  daily  kept  noblemen 
in  his  anteroom  begging  for  some  slight 
service  climbed  out  with  haste  to  marry 
an  unknown  gallows-bird  to  his  wench 
on  the  country  road  at  midnight.  The 
post-boys  forgot  their  shaking  fear  at 
the  sight. 

"May  I  be  witness,  Sir  Gallows- 
Cheat?"  chuckled  the  now  gay  Sir 
Henry. 

"Yes,  if  you  swear  to  be  a  true  one, 
and  always  to  uphold  what  you  see  here 
done,"  returned  the  highwayman,  in  a 
hoarse,  throaty  voice. 

"  Upon  my  honor,"  replied  the  knight, 
laughing.     ' '  But  the  lady — show  us  the 
lady.    What  a  story  it  will  be  for  Thorn- 
clirle  and  the  others!" 
229 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


n      x,'  ^ 

'J 


A  black  shadow  detached  itself  from 
the  trunk  of  a  tree  and  a  slender  girl 
rode  out.  The  clouds  had  thickened, 
completely  cutting  off  the  moon,  so 
through  the  darkness  the  witnesses 
could  just  make  out  the  indistinct  out- 
lines of  a  slender,  graceful  figure.  The 
bishop  offered  his  hand,  and  she  sprang 
lightly  to  the  ground.  Her  lover  was 
beside  her.  A  post-boy,  grinning,  now 
held  the  horses. 

And  so,  beneath  the  dark  shade  of 
the  overhanging  elms,  under  the  eyes  of 
the  peeping  stars,  they  were  married. 
"John  and  Mary,"  the  man,  in  his 
hoarse  voice,  gave  their  names,  and  at 
the  strange  coincidence  Sir  Henry  Per- 
cy, the  chief  witness,  almost  forgot  where 
he  was.  "John  —  Mary."  How  the 
names  thrilled  his  old  heart!  To-mor- 
row morning  in  the  library  at  The  Oaks 
he  would  hear  the  bishop  call  those 
names  again,  and  he  would  answer. 
230 


JACK     PERCY  S     GRANDSON 

Yes,  there  was  the  sentence,  "Who 
giveth  this  woman  to  this  man?" 

And,  thinking  of  the  morrow  and 
what  it  meant  to  him,  Sir  Henry  from 
the  darkness  called  forth  in  his  deepest 
voice,  "I  do,  with  all  my  heart." 

The  slender  bride  gave  a  little  sobbing 
cry  of  joy. 

For  the  rest  of  the  ceremony  her  an- 
swers were  nods  and  indistinct  mur- 
murs through  happy  tears.  It  was  the 
most  solemn  service  of  the  bishop's  life. 

"And  would  you  like  a  certificate?" 
"he  asked,  when  John  and  Mary  had 
plighted  their  troth. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  gallows-bird 
groom. 

By  the  dim  light  of  the  stars — for  the 
highwayman  in  his  first  attack  had 
smashed  the  carriage-lamps — the  certifi- 
cate was  made  out  and  signed.  Naught 
remained  but  to  insert  the  full  names  of 
the  contracting  parties.  The  bishop 
231 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

held  the  goose-quill  poised  expectantly. 
The  old  baronet  was  leaning  forward  in 
his  interest. 

"  Put  in,"  said  the  highwayman,"  John 
Percy  Latapie,  Vicomte  de  St.  Croix,  and 
May  Percy,  daughter  of  Sir  Henry  Percy, 
his  wife." 

Then,  lighting  the  tension  that  fol- 
lowed, the  moon  rushed  out  with  sudden 
boldness  from  behind  the  clouds  to  show 
the  father  and  daughter  standing  face 
to  face. 

"Dad,  dear  dad!"  her  arms  outstretch- 
ed towards  him,  her  eyes  big  and  soft 
with  love,  the  wayward  girl  made  her 
tender  appeal.  "Forgive  me,  dad!" 

Sir  Henry  Percy  stood  white,  silent, 
too  dazed  for  speech. 

"I  could  not  give  him  up  when  he 
offered  his  life  for  me,  dad." 

"May — my  little  girl — married  to  a 
Frenchman?"     The  old  man  murmured 
it  slowly,  incredulously  to  himself. 
232 


JACK     PERCY  S     GRANDSON 


The  girl  dared  a  step  nearer,  her  hus- 
band and  the  bishop  looking  on. 

"Not  a  Frenchman,  dad,  but  Cousin 
Jack  Percy's  grandson,  a  Percy  straight 
and  true,"  she  whispered. 

Her  father  seemed  suddenly  to  come 
to  himself.  "How  dared  you?  How 
knew  you  he  was  not  Fourney?"  he 
cried.  "Is  he  St.  Croix?" 

The  girl  laughed  low,  happily. 

"Fie!  I  believe  you  knew  it  all  the  time. 
Captain  Thorncliffe  told  Ethel  and  she 
told  me,"  she  said.  "A  lieutenant  of 
cavalry  rode  up  after  you  had  started 
for  Sir  Harvey's.  He  brought  the  news 
that  the  '  French  Percy '  had  been  shot  by 
his  men  on  outpost  yesterday  morn  at 
daybreak,  and  in  proof  showed  a  ring, 
the  St.  Croix  seal,  taken  from  the  clothes 
of  the  dead  man.  I  recognized  it  as  the 
one  Monsieur  Dubarre  had  sometimes 
worn.  See,  here  it  is!"  She  held  the 
ring  towards  her  father.  "  I  had  to  keep 

233 

: 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 


the  horrid  big  seal  in  my  mouth  all  during 
the  wedding,  to  change  my  voice,"  she 
ended,  slyly. 

"And  you  got  away,"  questioned  Sir 
Henry,  still  angry,  but  not  knowing  what 
to  do. 

She  went  on,  with  the  utmost  meek- 
ness: "I  had  your  pet  hunter  at  the 
lodge  gate,  sir;  a  long  cloak  on  the  sad- 
dle, pistols  and  a  dagger  in  the  holsters  " 
—  archly  —  "I  believe  you  promised 
'  French  Percy  '  those  ?  Cousin  Jack  Per- 
cy's grandson  was  waiting  in  our  hut  for 
me.  And,  dad !  dad ! ' ' — she  ended  it  with 
a  tender  rush — "we  were  so  afraid  we'd 
miss  you  and  the  bishop,  and  after  so 
much  trouble  I'd  had  spoiling  your 
pistols,  too." 

For  the  first  time  since  the  wedding 
St.  Croix  spoke. 

"And  had  we  missed  you,  Sir  Henry,  I 
should  have  been  forced  to  go  back  of 
mine  own  accord  to  your  gallows,  for  I 
234 


JACK     PERCY  S     GRANDSON 


would  not  leave  her  in  England  except 
as  my  wife,  and  Mistress  May  would  not 
come  unless  I  promised  you  should  see 
us  married  and  give  consent." 

Sir  Henry  whirled  on  him. 

"And  you  call  what  I  gave  'consent,' 
you  impudent  scoundrel — " 

"The  bishop  heard  you  say,'  I  do,  with 
all  my  heart,' "  broke  in  St.  Croix,  accus- 
ingly. 

"A  trick!"  roared  Sir  Henry — "  a  trick 
that  no  one  but — " 

"Jack  Percy's  grandson  could  have 
executed,"  finished  May  Percy  for 
him. 

"Jack  Percy's  grandson — Jack  Percy's 
grandson,"  he  repeated,  musingly.  For 
the  first  time  the  phrase  seemed  to  take 
hold  of  him. 

"And  your  son  now,  dad,"  whispered 
May  Percy,  softly. 

Her  father  glanced  inquiringly  tow- 
ards the  bishop. 

235 


THE     CASTLE     COMEDY 

"By  the  law  of  God  and  the  Church 
they  are  man  and  wife,  Sir  Henry." 

With  sudden  impulsiveness,  May  Lat- 
apie,  Countess  St.  Croix,  threw  herself 
into  her  father's  arms. 

"And,  dad,  you  can't  hang  your  own 
son,"  she  cried.  "And  he  is  going  to 
leave  me  with  you  until  the  war  is  over 
and  he  can  come  for  me  again  with 
honor." 

In  the  clear,  revealing  moonlight, 
over  the  bowed  head  of  the  girl  in  his 
arms,  the  chief  of  the  Percys  studied  the 
new  heir  to  the  line. 

"Jack  Percy's  grandson,"he  muttered 
at  last,  in  unwilling  admiration.  Then 
the  two  involuntarily  looked  at  the  one 
both  loved.  The  struggling  Percy  pride 
died  hard.  At  last  Sir  Henry  opened  his 
arms.  "Take  her, boy," he  said, briefly. 


THE    END 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000114386     6 


